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THE LAST DAYS OF 
MARIE ANTOINETTE 



THE LAST DAYS OF 
MARIE ANTOINETTE 



FROM THE FRENCH OF 

G. LENOTRE 

Author of " The Flight of Marie Antoinette" 
BY 

Mrs. RODOLPH STAWELL 



With niajty llhistrations 



Philadelphia: J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN 

1907 



J) C 1-^7 



A^^ 



Printed in England 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Intkoduction ...... . xi 



LES FEUILLANTS 

Les Feuillants (August 10fch-13th, 1792) ... 1 

Dufour's Narrative (August 10th-13th, 1792) ... 4 

The Rohan-Chabot Incident (The Night of the 11th August, 

1792) 13 

THE TEMPLE 

The Temple (August 13th, 1792— August 1st, 1793) . . 21 

The Narrative of Daujon, Commissioner of the Commune 

(August, 1792— October, 1793) 33 

The Narrative of Turgy, a Manservant Employed in the 

Temple (10th August, 1792— 13th October, 1793) . . 59 

The Narrative of Town-Councillor Goret . . .81 

The Recollections of Jacques Franqois Lepitre (December, 

1792— October, 1793) 102 

Extracts from the Narrative of Moelle, Member of the 

Commune ........ 134 

V 



CONTENTS 

THE CONCIERGERIE 



PACK 



The Oonciebgerie (August 2nd— October 16th, 1793) , . 144 

The Narkative of Rosalie LAMOKLiiiRE, Servant at the 

CoNCiEKGERiE (August — October, 1793) . . . 150 

Notes by Monseigneur de Salamon (1796) . . . 172 

The Inquiry of Madame Sibion-Vouet (1836) . . . 175 

The Narrative of Madame Bault, Widow of the Gaoler 
at the Conciergerie Prison (September 11th — October 

16th, 1793) 186 

The Queen's Communion in the Conciergerie . . 196 

The Recollections of Mademoiselle Fouche (Recorded in 

1824 by M. le Comte de Robiano) . . . .207 

The Declaration of the Abbe Magnin (1825) . . . 215 



THE TRIAL 

Notes by Chauveau-Lagarde, Counsel for the Queen 

(14th-16th October, 1793) 228 

Extract from the Recollections of Moelle, a Member of 
the Commune and a Witness in the Trial (15th- 
16th October, 1793) 235 

THE EXECUTION 

Narrative of Louis Labivi^re, Turnkey in the Concier- 
gerie ........ 238 

The Narrative of De Busne ..... 245 

Narrative of the Gendarme Leger .... 247 

The Narrative of Desessarts ..... 249 

vi 



CONTENTS 



PAOB 



The Narrative of the Vicomte Charles Desfoss^s . . 250 

The Narrative of Rouy, Author of " Le Magicien Re- 

publicain" ....... 253 

MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 255 

THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE . . .264 

THE EXHUMATION OF THE REMAINS OF KING 

LOUIS XVL AND QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE . 269 



Vll 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Marie Antoinette in Mourning at the Temple , Frontispieca 

Marie Antoinette in Hunting Costume . . To face 

General Plan of the Temple Precincts in 1792 

Plan A. — The Surroundings of the Temple Tower in 
August, 1792, according to Unpublished Documents . 

Plan B. — The Surroundings of the Temple Tower in 
January-, 1793, according to Unpublished Documents . 

The Princess de Lamballe .... To face 

The Unfortunate Louis XVI. . . . To faoe 

The Last Interview of Louis XVI. with his Family, the 
Night before his Execution . . . To face 



Princess Maria Charlotte Theresa 
The Temple Tower in September, 1792 
J. B. Cl:^ry .... 
Lamoignon de Maleshbrbes 



To face 

To face 

To face 

To face 

The Tower, with the Buildings of the Bailliage of the 
Temple (August, 1792) .... To face 

Death of Louis Capet on the Place de la Revolution 



(January 21, 1793) 
Madame Elizabeth . 
Teaching 



his Son Geography 



Louis XVI. 

Temple ...... 

The Queen's Two Cells in the Conciergerie 

ix 



To face 

To face 

IN the 

To face 



25 

29 

31 
44 
60 

68 

80 

84 

88' 

92 

94 

96 
122 

138 
151 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



Passage Leading to the Queen's Fikst Cell in the Conciee- 

GERiE — Actual Condition ..... 155 

The Cour des Femmes at the Congiergerie . . . 189 

The Abbe Magnin, the Queen's last Confessor To face 216 

The Trial of Marie Antoinette (October 14, 1793) To face 228 

Condemnation of Marie Antoinette before the Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal .... To face 232 
The Queen on Her Way to the Scaffold . . . 251 
The Cemetery of the Madeleine .... 265 
The Tower and Garden of the Temple, October, 1793 . 279- 
Plan of the Vault of the Bourbons .... 282 >/ 

The Vault of the Bourbons in the Church of Saint- 
Denis To face -282 v 



INTRODUCTION 

This is not a new book about Marie Antoinette : it is a 
recapitulation, an almost daily record, of the life led by the 
prisoner in Les Feuillants, the Temple, and the Conciergerie ; 
a collection of notes whose chief merit is their absolute 
authenticity. 

Nothing has been included but the narratives of eye- 
witnesses : of those who, on one ground or another, were 
admitted to the Queen's presence during the period between 
the 10th August, 1792, and the 16th October, 1793. These 
were neither gentlemen of the Court nor official historio- 
graphers. The Dangeau and the Saint-Simon of these dark 
days were a gaoler''s wife, a menial of the pantry, an upholsterer, 
a servant -girl, a gendarme, a sweeper — witnesses, that is to say, 
whose style does not aim at any great elegance. But I think 
their rugged sincerity will strike us as being more impressive 
than the poetical and pompous redundancies of the official 
writers of the Restoration. 

" Marie Antoinette's life in the Temple belongs to History," 
says M. Wallon ; " the reader does not wish such a subject to 
be quickly passed over : he is greedy of details and likes to 
dwell on them, because, in the face of so striking an example 
of the instability of human affairs, his emotions are as great 
as the misfortunes that call them forth." The amazing 
contrast between the Queen's first years, between the dream- 
like life at Schoenbrunn and Versailles, and her overwhelming 
sorrows, is enough to move the most callous heart. One 

xi 



INTRODUCTION 

remembers Trianon and all its flowers as one stands in the 
dark cellar of the Coneiergerie where the poor woman eiidured 
her death-struggle ; and one perforce contrasts the brilliant 
portraits in which we see her all gentleness and smiles, a 
majestic figure under her crown of fair hair, with that 
sorrowful woman whom Paris saw in the executioner's cart, 
wrapped in an old shawl, nearly blind, with the short strands 
of white hair round her temples whipping her thin cheeks. 

It is not surprising that this melancholy epic should have 
proved attractive to a great number of historians. As soon 
as the Terror was over the writers set to work ; but either 
because the events of the nineteenth century diverted atten- 
tion from other things, or because every one was anxious to 
forget the horrors of the Revolution as quickly as possible, or 
because the chroniclers in question were afraid of rousing into 
activity the critics of the Empire by reviving the memory of 
the House of Bourbon, twenty years slipped by before any 
serious inquiry into the Queen's imprisonment was set on 
foot. 

Then came the Restoration ; and instantly there was such 
a flood of brochures — Les Augustes Victimes — Les Illustres 
Persecutes — Les Mallieurs de la Reine de France — that in a 
few months the supply of elegiacal banalities ran out. It 
was only then that the people whom the chances of the Revo- 
lution had placed in contact with the prisoners of the Temple 
were brought out of their obscurity. There were numbers of 
municipal officers, conventionists, gaolers, gendarmes, warders, 
and servants of all kinds who, even if they possessed no 
original documents, must at least have had accurate recollec- 
tions of the drama of 1793. But by the time it occurred to 
anyone to question them, many of them were dead ; others, 
not caring to remind the royal family of the part they had 
played, kept silence ; a few, thinking it to their interest to 
speak, told their tale ; and thus it is that we see successively 
appearing, between 1815 and 1820, the Narrative of Dufour, 
Turgy's Fragments, the evidence of Goret and Lepitre, the 

xii 



INTRODUCTION 

Letters from the Widow Bault, the Recollections of Rosalie 
Lamorliere, etc. 

These narratives, published for the most part in the form 
of short pamphlets of a few pages, shared the fate of all 
pamphlets : they disappeared. Indeed, I think as a matter 
of fact they were not looked for very zealously, for they have 
been so often quoted that everyone thinks he knows them. 
All the historians who have described the Temple prison and 
told the story of the imprisonment of the royal family have had 
these for their only sources of information ; and for such a long 
time now every writer has been touching them up and colouring 
them, and making dramas out of them, and arranging them 
to the best advantage for the support of his own particular 
theory, that those who take the pains to consult the ungarbled 
text of the original copies find it absolutely unrecognisable. 

And yet one would have thought that such valuable and 
rare documents, concerned with events such as these, would 
have inspired enough respect to save them from the super- 
fluous additions that tend to smother not merely their 
individual flavour, but also their chief characteristic of 
authenticity. Everything that has been thought to be an 
improvement to them has, on the contrary, quite remarkably 
detracted from their value by robbing them of that vividness 
of things seen which no secondhand narrator, however clever 
he may be, can ever recapture. To the very clumsiness of 
these uncultured tales we owe many an involuntary revelation. 
How much it surprises us to hear of the ill-concealed emotion 
of the commissioners of the Commune, uneducated men of 
narrow mind for the most part, who accepted the office of 
guarding the prisoners, and came to the Temple in a spirit 
of bravado as it were, filled with excitement and coarse 
delight at the idea of hearing Capet sigh, and of snubbing 
the chattering Austrian. Gradually, as they approached the 
Tower, a vague feeling of pity grew upon them ; as they 
mounted the stairs they were choking with emotion ; in the 

xiii 



INTRODUCTION 

presence of the prisoners the most truculent were silenced 
and the roughest softened by an instinct of respect which 
they tried in vain to hide. These simple folk, these artisans 
and shopkeepers, were embarrassed by the role that had been 
thrust upon them ; without being willing to confess it, they 
were ashamed to see the King and Queen lodged in this 
narrow, low-ceiled, uncomfortable little room ; and so real 
was this feeling of embarrassment that these officials soon 
began to avoid the corvee of the Temple, none of them being 
willing to undertake it except certain members of the 
Commune, always the same, whose devotion the prisoners 
had won. 

This apparent contradiction is easily explained. In the 
intervals of the artificial excitement of which these great 
revolutionary demonstrations are born the little Parisian 
bourgeois is neither cruel nor vindictive. He is, as much as 
any man, the slave of the impression of the moment ; and 
had it not been for the overpowering fear that was the pre- 
vailing sentiment in those troubled times, many of the 
municipal officers on duty at the Temple would have opened 
the door and shut their eyes. 

But outside the prisoners"' circle of attraction were com- 
rades of the club and of the section, boon companions before 
whom it was necessary to play at cynicism and curse the 
tyrants — for whom any sympathy that was felt was un- 
expressed — and the pity that had begun to well up was 
weakened by a flood of words over the counter of the wine- 
shop. Yes, the thing was well organised, and those who had 
schemed it all, now that the tragic climax on which they had 
long resolved was near at hand, had skilfully secured the 
support of the Parisian populace : they guarded against its 
innate sentimentality by playing upon its vanity, interest, 
and fear : but now the weights were no longer equal and the 
scale dipped upon the wrong side. These remarks may 
throw some light upon those inexplicable and complex 

xiv 



INTRODUCTION 

characters, Tison, Busne, Moelle, Lamarche, Bault, Prud'- 
homme, Simon, and others whom we shall meet in the course 
of these narratives. 

There is another element in the story that will be no less 
surprising : the calmness, one might almost say the indiffer- 
ence, of the prisoners, and the kind of familiar good-fellow- 
ship that they showed in their relations with their warders. 
Here, again, it seems to me that historians have made the 
facts unrecognisable by creating characters all of a piece : 
disdainful pride on the part of the prisoners, coarse ferocity 
on the part of the gaolers. How much more human is the 
relaxation of manners that resulted from this enforced com- 
panionship, and what unexpected pictures it evokes ! The 
Queen, in the course of a walk in the gardens of the Temple, 
sits down under a tree beside the member of the Commune on 
duty, and they enter into conversation. The daughter of 
Maria Theresa, looking at her prison, asks the official what 
he thinks of it. Whereupon the latter describes an expedi- 
tion he once made to Coucy-le-Chateau, and embarks upon 
the history of Gabrielle de Vergy. The Queen, amused by 
the tale, calls her husband, who is at a little distance play- 
ing at ball with his son, and both of them then begin 
chatting with their gaoler on matters of geography, archaeo- 
logy, and travels. And later on the Queen, whose haughti- 
ness has been so much insisted upon, shows her gaoler a 
collection she has made of her children's hair at different 
ages : she sprinkles scent on her hands and waves them before 
his face. The whole party plays chess, makes jokes, plays 
upon the harpsichord ; there is no sign of haughtiness, no 
complaint, no recriminations. 

And how these poor women persisted in deluding them- 
selves ! With what deceptive details they fed their feverish 
and tenacious hopes ! They believed the men of Nantes were 
on their way to Paris : the Spanish Army, no doubt, must 
have joined them: had they already reached Orleans? Had 

XV 



INTRODUCTION 

Tiot the Swiss declared war ? An interchange was carried on 
of notes containing news, written in invisible ink ; romantic 
names were used : Produse, Constant, Fidele ; a language of 
signs was invented. All this reminds us with a pang of the 
comedies of Trianon. Shall we still he here in August ? asked 
Madame Elizabeth. Alas ! Tell us the bad news as well as 
the good, she added. Not ever again would she hear news 
that was good. 

When, one after another, their illusions have died, when no 
earthly hope is conceivable any longer, a noble and mysterious 
figure comes upon the scene. We do not refer to the Abbe 
Magnin, who, by risking martyrdom for the sake of bringing 
some comfort to the Queen, simply fulfilled the duties of his 
office, but to that poor girl who had neither money, nor credit, 
nor interest, and was, moreover, deformed, yet who by the force 
of her own will obliged the whole machinery of the Terror to 
yield before her, and simply made her way into the Con- 
ciergerie, carrying some fine linen, a cake, and some preserves 
for Marie Antoinette. I know of nothing more touching 
than the placidity of this girl, who, though brought up behind 
an old-clothes shop, was neither disturbed by the presence of 
the Queen nor by the coldness with which the prisoner 
received her. At once, without regard to her surroundings, 
fearlessly and quietly she found the right words, and spoke to 
the Queen as she would have spoken to one of her neighbours 
in trouble. Seeing that the Queen was paying no attention 
to her, the brave girl calmly set herself to overcome the 
suspicion with which she felt herself regarded by tasting the 
jam and the cake, taking her time over it, without consider- 
ing for a single moment that she was under the knife of the 
guillotine and that her courage was simply sublime. 

For a long time we believed that this story, which sounds 
so unlikely and has been so much discussed, was a fabrication. 
We shall show why our suspicions have been overcome, and 
give the reasons that have led us to accept, as absolutely 
true, the narrative of the Abbe Magnin, 

xvi 



INTRODUCTION 

The evidence that we have collected on the subject of the 
Queen's last hours is still more affecting. No doubt the 
whole story of the martyrdom has already been told : but 
what description in the world, even were it by the most 
eminent of poets, could rival the tale of those who can say : 
/ have seen ? Such are those who will show us the daughter 
of Emperors in the anguish of that dawn of the 16th 
October, stretched upon her truckle-bed, her cheek resting on 
her hand, as through the barred window she watches the 
growing light of that sad day. Two candles are flickering 
out upon the table ; the gendarme, in a corner, is reading 
and smoking. The servant enters and offers the prisoner 
some broth that she has made for her ; but the poor 
woman's throat refuses to swallow, and she only takes two 
spoonfuls. We shall hear of the abrupt entrance of the 
executioner ; of the suppressed sighs, and movements of 
horror that convulsed the unhappy woman, revolting from 
the idea of death ; of the man who cut off her hair and put 
it in his pocket .... 

Such things as these, recorded by those who actually saw 
them, are so intensely impressive that they could hardly be 
more so if they had taken place under our own eyes. 

' Afterwards we shall return, with the commissioners who 
came back from over there, to the Conciergerie, Avhich, in spite 
of the crowd of prisoners, seemed to be empty that day, so 
much had the presence of its great victim appeared to fill it. 
Here there was a general feeling of consternation in the air. 
The Queen's hair was being burnt in the registrar's office ; 
that hair — once so fair — which in the days of the pastorals of 
the Trianon had lent its name and colour to the stuffs that 
clothed the fashionable world. The dead woman's little dog 
was wandering piteously through the passages, while an 
inventory was being taken of the modest possessions left by 
the victim. For a long time to come everyone who awaited 
death in this place asked : " Which was her room .? What 

xvii b 



INTKODUCTION 

did she say ? " It was her memory, already, that dominated 
all the others. 

Such are the narratives that are here published. Repro- 
duced as they are in their entirety and arranged in their 
present form, they will, we are sure, appear quite new to 
many people. Even for those who have made the Revolu- 
tion their special study our work, we think, will not be 
useless, since it puts at their disposal documents of unques- 
tionable interest, documents that it is almost impossible to 
find nowadays in their original form. We Avould especially 
call their attention to the most important of these papers, 
the greater part of which has remained unpublished until 
now. The description it contains of the events of September 
2nd and 3rd gives us food for much thought. At that 
sinister date the Temple was besieged by a horde of proved 
murderers, monsters, drunken brutes, carrying the head, 
entrails, and heart of the Princesse de Lamballe. They were 
received by the municipal officers on duty, who had a 
considerable armed force at their disposal. How were they 
received ? With powder and shot ? Not at all. All the 
arms were hidden ; the troops were drawn up in line ; the vile 
mob was harangued, with allusions to its glory and its 
exploits ; and the commissioners put themselves at the head 
of the procession that carried the hideous trophy. It is true 
that the triumphant horde was carried off in another direc- 
tion by this means ; but how much more quickly the same 
end would have been gained by stopping its progress in the 
beginning by a briskly sustained fire ? 

This narrative of Daujon's is perhaps the saddest of all, in 
that it explains the others ; showing us the authorities 
compounding with the murderers and bowing before their 
threats. The same weakness that was the undoing of 
Louis XVI. was destined, by a strange repetition of history, 
to be the undoing of those who had compassed his fall. 

With the exception of certain expressions whose coarseness 
it is impossible to reproduce, we have deleted nothing from 

xviii 



INTRODUCTION 

Daujon's manuscript. A number of incidents are recorded in 
it whose horror, some may think, should have been modified 
— such as those unutterable words of the Dauphin. But our 
respect for the truth is too great, and our independence in 
searching for it too sincere, to allow us to curtail the deposi- 
tion of a witness and to choose from it only what pleases us. 
Facts — let us have facts ! Let us first find out how events 
occurred : judgment can be passed on them later. The 
history of the Revolution is still only at the stage of enquiry 
and examination. When the dossier is complete the time 
will come for addressing the jury ; the verdict then will at 
all events be found in full knowledge of the facts, and if the 
occasion arises each individual may, with a safe conscience, 
pronounce the words of condemnation or of acquittal. 



XIX 



LES FEUILLANTS 

(August 10-13th, 1792) 

It was the 10th August^ 1792, and the hour was seven o'clock 
in the morning. The Legislative Assembly met in the Riding 
School of the Tuileries, and entered upon that great sitting 
whose tragic issues are for ever memorable. 

The deputies, like the whole of Paris, were in a state of fever : 
the excited mob surged round the hall, ready at any moment to 
break out into open riot ; everyone felt that the hour of the 
crisis was about to strike and that it would be terrible. Upon 
the benches the tumult, agitation, and confusion were indescrib- 
able ; outside the walls the murmuring throng grew ever larger ; 
in the narrow corridor that connected the hall with the Passage 
des Feuillants an overwhelming multitude was crowded : in the 
passage itself the murderous work had actually begun ; several 
heads were raised aloft on pikes. 

Suddenly a man appeared at the bar of the hall, and announced 
breathlessly that the King and his family were crossing the 
gardens, on their way to take refuge with the Assembly. Almost 
at the same moment there appeared at the wide entrance that 
yawned under the seats of the members the soldiers of the 
Royal Guard, trying with fixed bayonets to force their way 
through the dark passage in which the frantic crowd was 
struggling. There was a general cry : " No soldiers ! No arms ! " 
The benches were emptied in an instant ; the deputies dashed 
down and repulsed the Guard. At that moment the King 
appeared ; then from the back-wash of the surge came the 
Queen, with Madame Elizabeth holding Madame Royale by the 
hand, and behind them a grenadier of the National Guard 
carrying the Dauphin above the level of the people's heads. 
There was a moment of comparative silence while the two hostile 
powers, the Court and the Assembly, reconciled for an instant by 
their common danger, faced each other in dismay. 

1 B 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Theiij while an aimless discussion followed, leading to nothing, 
— the deputies arguing, with an aiFectation of calmness, as to 
whether the King should sit here or there — came the news from 
without of a succession of disasters. 

The palace had been broken into ; M. Mandat had just been 
murdered ; the insurgent army was gaining ground ; its furious 
waves were beating against the walls of the Riding School with a 
noise like the thunder of a raging sea ; the courts were invaded. 
The Assembly, over-confident in its own authority, decreed that 
twenty of its members should be commissioned to speak to the 
people and soothe their agitation. It was half-past nine when 
they started on this errand. Suddenly the report of a gun was 
heard : the whole hall rose and listened, trembling. The public, 
crowded together in the galleries, were jostling each other in the 
effort to escape, when an officer of the National Guard, bursting 
through the barrier, rushed into the semicircle crying : " To 
your places, gentlemen ; they are breaking in ! " 

The president — it was Guadet — left his seat and sought 
shelter. From without came a sound of roaring guns ; and dm-ing 
the short interval between the constant reports could be heard 
the sustained fire of musketry, drawing closer and closer to the 
Assembly. At this point the twenty deputies who had been 
despatched to make peace returned in disorder. One of them, 
Lamarque, with a gesture of despair addressed the president, but 
his words were hardly distinguishable. 

" We reached the end of the court of the Riding School — We 
came too late ! — An immense crowd of armed men — we know no 
more — we could not possibly go any further." 

His voice Avas lost in the tumult : the tocsin was ringing at the 
churches of the Conception, Saint Roch, and the Assumption, 
the sound of the guns was growing louder every moment : some 
musket-shots were aimed at the windows of the Riding School, 
and shivered the glass to atoms. Some of the deputies attempted 
to fly, but were recalled and prevented from leaving the hall, 
" It is here that we ought to die ! " 

A yell arose from the galleries : " Here are the Swiss 
Guards ! "^ And the Assembly, believing their last hour had 

^ As a matter of fact some Swiss Guards tried to force the doors of the 
hall, in order to protect the royal family from the insurgents, who were on 
the point of breaking into the Riding School. Weber mentions the fact 
in his M4moires : 

"We shouted, to the gendarmes to let us in," he writes, "but they 

2 



LES FEUILLANTS 

come, rose as one man and answered with a shout : " Vive la 
liberie, vive la nation ! " 

We have no intention of giving a detailed account of that long 
and agonising day : we have merely summed up, almost in the 
original words, the principal facts recorded in the official report, i 
This sketch will suffice to show the extent of the prevailing 
agitation, the complete absence of decided action, and the con- 
fusion and terror that reigned on the occasion. The armies on 
both sides of the struggle were marching with their eyes shut, 
and none could foresee what the morrow would bring forth. It 
is certain that at midday on the 10 th August the King was stiU 
hoping to return to the Tuileries in the evening. " We shall 
come back," the Queen had said as she left the palace ; for no 
one dreamt that the royal family were about to be imprisoned. 
But in this great catastrophe in which the two powers were 
foundering, the Assembly, at all events, understood that they 
must abstain from mortgaging the future : since the deluded 
King had taken refuge in the camp of the enemy it behoved the 
latter to see that such a precious hostage did not escape : later 
on they would know better what course to adopt. 

It was then they decided that the royal family should stay for 
the time in the precincts of the Assembly itself, in the Convent 
of Les Feuillants, whither, led by an eye-witness, we are about 
to follow them. In this rough, unstudied story we shall see 
signs of the same distraction and confusion that reigned in the 
Assembly. 

It is the deposition of a man of whom we know nothing except 
that his name was Dufour ; of whose profession, even, we are 
ignorant, as well as of the reasons that brought him to this place. 
His short memorandum is valuable, nevertheless, in that he 
records — though only superficially it is true — a series of facts 
which the witnesses who were in a better position to do so did not 
think of describing.^ 

answered that the thing was impossible, for the doors had been barricaded 
on the inside ever since the arrival of the Court. We flung ourselves, a 
dozen at a time, against the great door : it was beginning to yield, but 
for want of sappers all our efforts came to nothing. " 

^ See the Parliamentary Archives, yoI. XL VII, p. 616-676. 

2 Dufour's narrative appeared in 1814 with the following title : The 
Four Days of the Terror. Details of the four days passed by Louis XVI., 
King of France, and his august family, in the Legislative Assembly, from 
the 10th August, 1792, to the 13th of the same month, when they were taken 
to the Tower of the Temple. 

3 B 2 



DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE 

(August 10th-13th, 1792) 

I SPENT the night between the 9th and 10th August under 
arms in the Place Vendome, because the -company to which 
I was attached had declared for the King. At about three 
o'clock in the morning this company proceeded to the palace 
of the Tuileries, but being prevented from entering the 
building, it retired to the Place Vendome, whither I followed 
it. At about six o'clock in the morning everything seemed 
to have calmed down, and I thought the danger was over, in 
which belief I hastened with all possible speed to my father, 
who was very ill. On my return I saw no sign of the com- 
pany mentioned above, and when I approached the Palace 
everything seemed quiet, and the mob had disappeared. I 
reached the grand staircase undisturbed ; but what was my 
surprise when I saw it covered with corpses, piled one upon 
another. With a beating heart I paused for a moment to 
collect my thoughts. A thousand ideas flashed into my 
mind. I pictured a murdered King, and with him all his 
family and many another victim, among whom, perhaps, there 
might be some still breathing, to whom I could bring help. 

Inspired by this idea, I determined to go upstairs and 
through the rooms, which I did amid a silence that was really 
amazing ; and I met no one. I returned to the King's bed- 
room, thinking it likely that during such scenes of violence 
there might have been some who had hidden themselves ; 
and since this seemed a propitious moment for them to escape, 
I was going to suggest that they should take advantage of it. 
But before doing so I took the precaution of listening at the 

4 



DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE 

head of the grand staircase. I had not been there for two 
minutes when I heard a fearful clamour, and not knowing in 
which direction to fly, I locked myself into the King's room. 
The crowd soon reached the door and knocked upon it 
violently, but I called out from within in a firm tone of 
voice : " This is not the way ; go round on the other side." 
The leader went through the Grand Gallery, and all the 
others followed him. When, as far as I could hear, they had 
all passed on, I came out of the room and followed them, for 
I feared to meet another band of them on the staircase, and 
wished to see what they were going to do. I saw them 
trampling the most valuable things under foot, and breaking 
mirrors and chandeliers, etc., so that in a moment these 
splendid rooms were a mere ruin. Some of these men had 
entered the King's dressing-room, where they were flinging 
coats and decorations on the floor, while others tried the 
clothes on and cursed his Majesty. Through these maniacs 
I learnt that the King, at nine o'clock in the morning, having 
come to the conclusion that he could not stay in the Palace 
of the Tuileries without exposing the whole royal family to 
the greatest danger, had determined to retire with his family 
to the Legislative Assembly. I did not lose a moment in 
following them. I forced my way through the crowd, and 
found myself close to the reporter's-box of the Logogra'phe^ 
in which I discovered that unhappy royal family delivered 
into the hands of their cruel enemies. All the corridors were 
filled with the terrorists, who were loudly demanding a mas- 
sacre. I retired to my own home in the Faubourg Saint 
Honore for a moment's breathing-space, and as I reached my 
door I saw three people murdered. They threw themselves at 
the feet of their assassins entreating for mercy ; but nothing 
could stay those murderous hands, and I saw the three victims 
expire within a few yards of me. My entreaties were dis- 
regarded, and perhaps I should have suffered the same fate if 
I had persisted any longer. I had just passed through the 
Garden of the Tuileries and the Champs-Elysees, where the 
ground was covered with dead bodies. This horrible scene 
had quite unnerved me, and I remained for a quarter of an 
hour in my own house. I then proceeded to the Garde-Meuble 

5 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

of the Crown, where I found M. SuUeau,^ and asked him if he 
were aware of the troubles of the royal family. " Yes," he 
answered, sorrowfully ; " and at this moment I am having two 
trucks loaded with beds, for the furnishing of some little 
rooms that are being made ready for their Majesties.""^ 
When the trucks were loaded no one dared to drag them ; 
for so great was the terror that prevailed that the porters who 
are always waiting about at the street-corners in Paris would 
not come into the Garde-Meuble at any price. It was, how- 
ever, important that the little suite of rooms should be 
furnished without delay, in order that the royal family might 
be released from their sufferings in the uncomfortable place 
where they then were. I succeeded, by dint of many 
entreaties, in persuading twelve porters whom I found at 
the door of Les Feuillants to drag the trucks ; but we had 
considerable trouble in accomplishing our end on account of 
the great crowds that filled the courts. I immediately had 
the beds taken up to the little suite of rooms in question, 
which comprised four cells, and two others a little further on 
for Madame Elizabeth. At about seven o'clock in the evening 

1 Francois Suleau, editor of the Actes des Ap6t7^es and of the journal that 
bore his name, left his house on the 10th August at about half-past eight 
in the morning. Being recognised and arrested almost at once, he was 
taken to the guard-house in the Cour des Feuillants and murdered by the 
populace, together with the Abb6 Bouyou, MM. de Solminiac and du 
Vigier, — both members of the Body Guard — and five other victims. Their 
bodies were thrown into the Place Vendome (see August Vitu, Francois 
Suleau). The above does not refer to him, then. But Suleau had two 
brothers, one of whom contributed later on to the Drapeau Blanc, a 
journal founded by Martainville. It was this ardent royalist, doubtless, 
who helped Dufour to furnish the rooms allotted to Louis XVI. 's family. 

^ On the 10th August, during the morning sitting, Verniaud, in the 
name of the Commission of Twelve, brought forward a bill relating to the 
Suspension of the Head of the Executive Power. 

Article 7 of this bill was as follows : " The Eang and his family will 
remain within the precincts of the Legislative Assembly until peace is 
restored in Paris." 

This measure was immediately passed ; in consequence of which the 
family of Louis XVI. remained during the day of the 10th and part of the 
following night, in the reporter's box of the Logotachygraphe, in the Riding 
School of the Tuileries. At ten o'clock in the evening — the sitting did not 
close till half-past three in the morning— some members commissioned by 
the Assembly conducted the King, the Queen, the Dauphin, Madame 
Royale, and Madame Elizabeth to the upper storey of the Convent of the 
Feuillants, the ground-floor of which was occupied by the offices and Com- 
mittee-rooms of the Assembly. (See Parliamentary Archives, 1st series, 
vol. XLVII, and the Mimoirea de Madame de Tourzel. ) 

6 



DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE 

Madame la Comtesse de Tourzel came to inspect it, and 
observed that the royal family had no underlinen. I at once 
made it my business to procure some. It was difficult to find 
any little shirts for the Dauphin, but I succeeded in obtaining 
some. 

Their Majesties had been in the hall of the Assembly 
uninterruptedly from nine o'clock in the morning till ten 
o'clock at night, and had experienced the greatest suiFering 
and every imaginable privation, for no one had given any 
thought to their needs. When at ten o'clock their Majesties 
retired to the little suite of rooms mentioned above,^ they 
were overcome with fatigue after their long sitting in the 
Assembly. They were dying with thirst, but I had nothing 
but water to offer them, and they were much inconvenienced 
by the small size of their quarters. The royal family were 
accompanied by Madame la Princesse de Lamballe, Madame 
la Comtesse de Tourzel, Madame Auguaire and Madame 
d'Egremont.^ 

^ In conformity with the Assembly's decree some cells in the Convent of 
Les Feuillants were made ready for the reception of the royal family. 
The King was alone in his room .... the Queen and Madame were 
together in the second cell, and Madame Elizabeth, Madame de Lamballe, 
and I were put into the third with Monseigneur le Dauphin. It is easy to 
imagine the kind of night we passed, distinctly hearing the noise in 
the Assembly, the applause and clapping in the galleries ; and excepting 
Monseigneur le Dauphin and Madame, who were so much overcome with 
fatigue that they fell asleep on the spot, not one of us closed an eye all 
night .... 

"Some commissioners came at 11 o'clock at night to see if each of us 
was in bed in his or her allotted cell." — Madame de Tourzel's Mdmoires. 

^ The spelling of the names so inaccurately written by Dufour can be 
easily rectified. Madame Daigreraont was the wife of the tapissier of the 
Assembly. As for Madame Auguaire, she was Madame Adelaide Aughi6, 
the daughter of M. Genet, Chief Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and the 
sister of Madame Campan. She had married M. Aughi6, farmer-general 
of the duchies of Lorraine and Bar, who forsook this lucrative position 
later on for the less profitable ofiice of Postmaster-General. Queen Marie 
Antoinette was much attached to Madame Aughie, whom she had made 
her first woman-of-the-bedchamber. On the 6th October, the 20th June, 
and the 10th August Adelaide Aughi6 bravely stood by her sovereign, 
whom she followed, as we see, to Les Feuillants. The Queen called her 
^' my Lioness." When the royal family were moving from Les Feuillants 
to the Temple Madame Aughi6 contrived, at the moment of parting, to slip 
twelve hundred francs in gold, which she always carried about with her in 
case of accidents, into Marie Antoinette's hand. When the Queen appeared 
before the Revolutionary Tribunal she was asked who had given her this 
money. She admitted that it had been given to her by Madame Aughi6, 
and M. Aughi6 was arrested. Thanks to Madame Aughi6 her husband was 

7 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Their Majesties passed a fearful night ; for the terrorists 
came close to their rooms and recommenced their insults and 
threats. It was feared that they would overpower the sentries 
and come in, and that a massacre would follow. I spent the 
night on a bench near the King's rooms, and several times 
I saw that the people were trying to break in the grating 
that was at the end of the passage. The sentries had great 
difficulty in restraining these savages. 

I awaited the daylight with great impatience, hoping that 
with the dawn all these atrocities would grow less violent, but 
they continued just the same. 

When one of the ladies appeared at the door that led to the 

rooms she was obliged to retreat at once, being alarmed by the 

yells outside. Every time I looked in the direction of that 

grating it seemed to me that I must be in the menagerie, 

watching the fury that the wild beasts show when any one 

appears in front of their bars.^ 

forgotten for several months, in the prisons of the Terror ; but all that she 
had been through had affected her mind, and one day she wrote a letter to 
the Committee of Public Safety, saying that she was about to kill herself, 
and entreating that in consideration of this sacrifice her husband might be 
spared. She accordingly threw herself out of the window and was killed, 
two days before the 9th Thermidor. It is said that her funeral procession 
was stopped by the passing of the cart in which Robespierre and his 
accomplices were being taken to the scaffold. M. Aughi6 was set free, and 
remained a widower with three daughters, one of whom, Aglae, married 
Marshal Ney. (Information supplied by M. Partiot, great-grandson of 
Madame Aughi6. ) 

It was to Madame Aughid that Marie Antoinette gave the portrait 
painted by the request of the Empress Maria Theresa, by the German 
artist Werthmuller. It appears at the beginning of this volume. The 
Queen was represented in hunting-costume ; and on her head was a large 
felt hat adorned with a rose and draped with a veil that hung about her 
shoulders. This picture, so precious on many grounds, was hidden during 
the Revolution, and, by a superfluity of precaution, with the idea of 
making it unrecognisable, the hat was replaced by a large peruke, and the 
veil was altered into a kind of mantle covering the dress. Madame 
Partiot, nee de la Ville, a granddaughter of M adame Aughi6, afterwards 
found this portrait in an attic. She entrusted it to Isabey, who undertook 
to restore the original picture, and did actually restore the dress. But he 
dared not . scrape off the peruke, [for fear of being obliged to touch up the 
face, which had remained in its original state, and was painted with 
marvellous delicacy of tone. 

It was in this condition, then, that the picture was placed in M. 
Partiot's gallery, and it is he who has so kindly allowed us to reproduce 
this hitherto unpublished portrait of the Queen. We beg him to accept our 
sincere gratitude. 

^ At the Feuillants the Eang and Queen saw MM. de Choiseul, de 
Briges, de Br6z6, de Goguelat, de Nantouillet, and d'Aubier ; and the last, 

8 




MAKIE ANTOINETTE IN HUNTING COSTUME. 

An unpublished portrait painted by Werthmiiller, and given by the Queen 
to Mme. Anghie, the sister of Mme. Campan. (M. Partiot's Collection.) 



DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE 

Yet the royal family were obliged to pass that way four 
times a day, and all that they heard and suffered may be 
imagined. 

At about six o'clock in the morning, remembering that their 
Majesties had eaten nothing throughout the preceding day, 
I began to devise means of procuring some breakfast for 
them. Being unable to apply to the King's cooks, I went to 
an eating-house and ordered breakfast to be prepared ; and at 
half-past eight I laid the table and sent to inform their 
Majesties that breakfast was ready. They came to the table ; 
but their sorrows were their only food. They raised their 
eyes to heaven and sighed ; and soon they rose and returned 
to their rooms, and thence to the Legislative Assembly.^ 
The Queen was extremely ill. Indeed it was astonishing that 
she had the courage to remain through such long sittings in 
a little box where there was hardly room for her, so closely 
packed was it with people. 

Some of the gentlemen of the Court had been rash enough 
to make their way into the corridors, with the intention of 
seeing their Majesties. They had been seen as they came in, 
and suddenly there was a great commotion in all the passages 
of the building. The people shouted : " Prince so-and-so is 
here, and others too ! " but, just as the search for them 
began, the tapissier of the Legislative Assembly, with one of 
his friends, seized them by the arm and began to sing and 
dance. It was thus that they escaped the fury of the people, 
who would, perhaps, have murdered them. 

with respectful sympathy, offered the Queen 25 louis and a cambric 
handkerchief, " for hers was drenched with tears." Being quite penniless 
Marie Antoinette accepted the gift, thanking M. d'Aubier with a heart- 
broken smile, "which," he says, "hurt me." It was necessary to speak 
in undertones because of the children, who were asleep, and of the guards, 
who could hear what was said. In the next room, Madame fllizabeth, the 
Princesse de Lamballe, and Madame de Tourzel were talking of the terrible • 
events that had succeeded each other so rapidly and had reached a climax 
so quickly; and the Queen's name was mentioned. "I think she is 
doomed," said Madame de Lamballe ; " listen." And indeed, the mob was 
howling under the windows, and demanding her head. — De Vyr^, Marie 
Antoinette. 

1 On the 11th August, at seven o'clock in the morning, and not at nine, 
as Dufour intimates, the King and his family resumed their places in the 
box that had been assigned to them on the previous day. — Parliamentary 
Archives, vol. XL VIII. 

9 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

At ten o'clock in the morning I went to the house of 
M. Thieri de Vildavrai, the King''s first valet-de-chamhre, and 
describing to him the deplorable state to which the royal 
family was reduced, I asked him if he could see to the 
preparation of their Majesties' dinner. He answered eagerly 
that he was ready to do anything that would tend to their 
comfort, but that he was doubtful as to the possibility of 
introducing the dinner into the building. I reassured him, 
promising to undertake the matter myself, and to carry it out 
with all possible care. 

On that same day M. Thieri came to see the King, which 
seemed to give great pleasure to his Majesty, for this was 
the only person he had been able to see since the beginning 
of this sad state of things. At two o'clock I returned to 
M. Thieri's house, and found the dinner ready. Four men 
carried it in baskets, and I walked in front to make way. 
Insults, and libels on the royal family, were flung at me as 
I passed ; and the people tried to raise the napkins, saying 
they felt very much inclined to eat the dinner. I told them 
I kept an eating-house, and it would be I that would suffer 
if they did so. By this means I kept them quiet, and with 
great difficulty reached my destination. 

The room in which their Majesties were to dine was an 
office. With great difficulty I obtained leave to lay the 
table, being helped by two people who had refused to desert 
Madame Elizabeth. I allowed them to go on with the work 
by themselves while I escorted their Majesties, who were 
obliged to walk down the whole length of a long corridor to 
reach the table. This corridor was crowded with people, and 
the terrorists were forming the most treacherous designs. 
The royal family were exposed to all the full fury of these 
men, and were subjected to a thousand insults, and even to 
occasional threats. I did my best to be always with their 
Majesties, in order to take precautions against the unpleasant- 
ness to which they were constantly exposed, day and night. 
When their Majesties had dined they returned to their 
rooms, and there allowed their tears to flow freely ; then they 
proceeded to the Assembly. The crowd very often gathered 
under the windows of the King's apartments, and I went 

10 



DUFOUR'S NARRATIVE 

down to listen to what they were saying about their 
Majesties. I noticed one man in particular who, in terrifying 
terms, was urging the people to go upstairs and massacre the 
royal family. His words made my blood boil, and, forgetting 
the danger to which I should expose myself in my efforts to 
avert a still greater peril, I scanned the faces around me, and 
determined to chase this dangerous man away by force. On 
the following day at the same hour I again found this 
individual making similar speeches. I was no less moved 
than on the previous day, and taking the same precautions 
I chased the monster away with greater violence than before. 
I saw him no more. 

A moment later the royal family proceeded to the Assembly 
as usual. M. Thieri continued to visit the King constantly, 
which was a great comfort to his Majesty, for they probably 
had many things to talk over together in connection with 
the melancholy state of affairs. One day the King left the 
gallery very hurriedly, and asked me if M. Thieri had gone. 
" Sire, he left a moment ago."" — " I am sorry." — " Sire, I 
will run after him." I succeeded in finding him. " Monsieur,"" 
I said, " it seems that his Majesty forgot to say something to 
you." He returned to speak to the King, and when I opened 
the door I saw gratitude plainly written on the fine face of 
that good King. M. Thieri, as he went out, told me he had 
noticed with pleasure the care with which I served their 
Majesties, and added, that as soon as matters were more 
settled I should be rewarded. On the following day his 
Majesty honoured me by expressing his satisfaction with the 
zeal I showed in serving him. 

The Queen had lost her locket. This seemed to distress 
her very much, and I promised her to look for it with the 
greatest care. I was fortunate enough to find it, and I had 
it returned to her without delay, which seemed to give her 
much pleasure. This locket, or medallion, contained portraits 
of the King, the Queen, the Dauphin, and Madame Royale. 
A little circlet of gold was its only ornament. 

All the days were full, more or less, of the same anxieties 
and the same miseries. On the fourth day I absented myself 
for an hour in order to go to my own home, having been 

11 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

unable to do so since the 10th. I wished to change my hnen. 
On my return I saw no sentries^ at the gate, nor any at the 
door of the King's rooms. The doors were open. I entered, 
and soon perceived that something unfortunate had occurred. 
I went down to see Madame d'Egremont, the wife of the 
tapissier of the Legislative Assembly, and she told me sorrow- 
fully that their Majesties had been removed to the Tower of 
the Temple. 

" Alas, alas ! " I cried. " Then the doom of the best of 
kings is sealed ! Madame," I added, " to-day the troubles of 
France are beginning." 

I much regretted having left the place. Nothing would 
have induced me to forsake that illustrious family, even 
though the alternative had been to die with them. I asked 
myself: " Who will care for their Majesties' comfort ? Some 
Jacobins before whom they will not dare to speak." But 
when I learnt that M. Clery was with their Majesties I was 
partly comforted. M. Thieri de Vildavrai fell a victim to 
his devotion, for he was stabbed to death. 

^ On Monday the 13th the King was excused from attending the sitting 
of the Assembly, and the morning was spent in making preparations for 
moving to the Temple. 



12 



THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT 

(The Night of the 11th August, 1792) 

The history of the four days of the imprisonment endured 
by the royal family in the Feuillants^ from the 10th to the 13th 
August, I792j has never been written. For the narrative that 
we have just read is merely an anecdote related by one who 
played a very insignificant part on the occasion, and saw only 
one side of the affair. 

There are still fewer details in the stories of those who were 
in more important positions. Madame de Tourzel, Goguelat, 
and even the Duchesse d'Angouleme herself, are dumb with 
regard to this first period of Louis XVI. 's imprisonment. The 
course of events was so rapid, the general feeling of surprise so 
great, the climax so sudden, that the actors in the drama were 
reduced to a state of coma, so to speak, by the reaction following 
upon their feverish time of waiting, and were really hardly con- 
scious of what was taking place. 

Nevertheless it was these eighty hours that constituted the 
real crisis in the affairs of the Monarchy. 

As long as the King's fate was uncertain, hope was still 
possible to those faithful followei's who stood by him to the end. 
They were allowed to approach their master, to receive his orders, 
to take counsel with him ; and no doubt these last hours were 
occupied in trying to devise some means of duping the victorious 
party and robbing them of their prisoners. 

What mad schemes were formed in those four little rooms of 
the Feuillants } What daring deeds were suggested, yet never 
definitely determined upon } We do not know. But there are 
certain documents that testify so plainly both to the tenacious 
courage of the royal family's supporters, and to the fears of the 
Assembly that they would be robbed of their hostages, that we 

13 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

are justified in believing some plan of escape did actually exists 
some plan which the King, having learnt the hard lesson of 
Varennes, no doubt rejected. 

The incident initiated by the deputy of Grangeneuve during 
the evening sitting of August 11th is rather a vague piece of 
evidence, but it is valuable in default of anything better : for 
besides being a plain indication of the anxiety of the Assembly 
and the determination of the royalists, it was also the first essay 
in the judicial methods of the revolutionaries. Later on, under 
the regime of the Law of the Suspect, Fouquier-Tinville adopted 
exactly the same procedure that was used when, on this occasion, 
the Legislative Assembly assumed the functions of a court of 
law. 

We will give the official documents verbatim. 

{Legislative Assembly. — Sitting of' the Wth August^ 1792, in 
the evening.) 

M. Grangeneuve. — I wish to inform the Assembly of 
an extremely important fact. As I was on my way to the 
Comite de Surveillance I saw, in the neighbourhood of that 
Committee, fifty or sixty men professing to be National 
Guards. I met among them a certain Prince de Poix and 
many people of that sort. Gentlemen, as long as such people 
as these are near the King we cannot answer for him. I 
call upon the Assembly to decree that the King and his 
family shall be moved without delay to some other place, 
for it is impossible for the Comite de Surveillance to continue 
their work in the present state of things.^ I would remark, 
in the first place, that perhaps plots are being made at this 
moment to carry off the King. 

M. Galon, Superintendent of the Hall. — It was the oflScer 
in command of the guard who gave the King a guard 
of twenty-five men. At the time these gentlemen noticed 
that there were fifty of them the guard was being relieved. 

M. Choudieu. — I wish to propose some resolutions that are 
of the utmost importance and should be adopted on the spot 
by the Assembly. The first is that the Assembly should 

^ The cells in which the royal family were lodged were used as an office 
by the Gomit4 de Surveillance of the Assembly. 

14 



THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT 

find out the name of the man who is at this moment in 
command of the guard of the National Assembly and of 
the King, so that he may be made responsible. 

The second is that the names of those who are about 
the King's person, as well as the names of his guard, should 
be made known to the Assembly, in order that we may know 
if they are really National Guards. 

The third is that the Assembly should pass sentence 
of death upon every man who shall be found wearing the 
uniform of a National Guard without being enrolled in a 
battalion. All these measures are indispensable, and I 
demand that they may be put to the vote. I believe that 
the safety of Paris, of the Assembly, and of the King, 
depends upon them. 

M, Thuriot.^ — I should like to add to these yet another 
resolution : namely, that the National Assembly should decree 
that, until the King and his family are removed to the 
place where they are to reside, no person shall be admitted 
to his presence without special permission to that effect 
from the National Assembly, — and that this should be 
considered in connection with M. Choudieu's last proposition. 

M. Grangeneuve. — Let us adjourn ! 

M. Thuriot. — But I do not wish to adjourn. I call upon 
the Assembly to decree on the spot that every man found 
wearing the uniform of a National Guard without being en- 
rolled shall be condemned to be three years in irons. I think 
that penalty is sufficiently severe. 

(The Assembly then adopted the two first measures 
proposed by M. Choudieu, referred the second resolution 
of M. Thuriot to the Legislative Committee, and took no 
action with regard to the last.) 

M. Choudieu. — I propose that the gendarmerie who form 
your guard and have, hitherto, shared the labours of the 
National Guard with so much zeal and public spirit, shall 
also share with that body the duty of guarding the King. 

^ Thuriot had just come back from the Guildhall, whither he had hast- 
ened to inform the Commune " that a plot was being formed to carry off 
the King, and the guard was not sufSciently strong " ; and to beg that the 
measures necessary to meet this danger might be taken as quickly as 
possible {Proces-verhaux de la Commune de Paris, 11 aout). 

15 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

(The Assembly passed this resolution.) 

M. Breard. — I propose that two members of the Comite 
de Surveillance should be authorised to inspect the posts of 
all the sentinels stationed round the Assembly, to make sure 
that all is well, and report upon them to the Assembly. 

(The Assembly passed this new resolution.) 

A Citizen appeared at the bar, introducing a man who 
had been loitering under the King's windows, and whose 
intentions seemed suspicious. 

M. Choudieu. — I propose that M. le President should be 
authorised to give orders that those who are with the King 
shall be prevented from leaving him ; I propose that the 
King should be requested to give the names of those who are 
with him ; and as soon as you know, by means of this list, 
that M. Narbonne, M. de Poix, and others, are with the 
King instead of being at their posts, I shall propose that 
they be brought, under a strong and reliable guard, to the 
bar of the Assembly, to give an account of their conduct 
and the motives that bring them here.^ {Cheers.) 

(The Assembly passed M. Choudieu's resolution.) 

M. Rohan-Chabot, in the dress of a private individual, 
was conducted to the bar by the citizen mentioned above. 

The President (Frangais de Nantes). — Sir, the National 
Assembly will be glad to learn who you are. 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — I am a grenadier in the battalion of 
UAbbaye-Saint-Germain. I was on duty yesterday. When 
the King came from the Tuileries to the National Assembly 
I was one of those who accompanied him. I remained here 
until five o'clock in the morning, at which hour those who 
were not in the King's Guard were told that they might go 
away if they had nothing more to do. I went to change my 
linen and other clothes. I returned, to be with the King, 
for I have not left him since he has been here. I saw no 

^ It is evident that the debates of the Assembly were regulated from 
the Guildhall, by the Commune of Paris. For we see in the minutes of 
the municipal meeting of the 11th that attention is called to " the presence 
of unauthorised patrols in the vicinity of Les Feuillants ; M. de Poix and 
de Narbonne are with the King ; some National Guards wearing white 
rosettes are intending to carry off the King to-night." The legislative 
body was on this occasion, it is plain, merely the faithful and obedient 
echo of the municipal body of the insurrectionists. 

16 



THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT 

one with him but those who are attached to his person, such 
as M. Tourzel, M. de Poix, and M. Debris, and two or three 
others as well. When I came here I was told that those who 
were with the King were to stay. I know nearly all of them, 
so I wished to find out about them. I asked, therefore, 
where the concierge lived, and made a messenger from the 
office take me to her house. And it was just as I was entering 
her house that I was stopped and brought before you by the 
person who told you I had been loitering for a long time 
under the King''s windows. I defy him to prove that I 
remained there for longer than one minute. A messenger, 
as I have just said, was showing me the way when this person, 
who stopped me and whom I do not know, seized me by the 
coat and said to me : " Sir, you are prowling about in the 
neighbourhood of the King, and you will follow me to the 
Assembly." I answered : " Willingly — for my conscience does 
not reproach me for anything, and I defy anyone to prove 
that I am a spy." 

A Member. — This gentleman says he has been on guard 
near the King''s person from yesterday morning until this 
morning. Would you be kind enough to question him as to 
what battalion he is serving in ? 

The President. — In what battalion are you serving ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — I have had the honour of telling you 
that I am in the battalion of L'Abbaye-Saint-Germain. 

The President. — Were you ordered on duty yesterday at 
the palace ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — I was about to do myself the honour 
of finishing what I had to say when M. le President interrupted 
me. I believe that my battalion was at the palace : but on 
the evening of the day before yesterday I was told that fears 
were entertained for the King's safety, and that the palace 
was guarded : and so I went there myself. 

M. Haussmann. — Then, as the gentleman went to the 
palace without orders, he should be taken to his own section 
and examined there. 

M. Maribon-Montaut. — I wish to observe, gentlemen, 
that the citizen at the bar shows an astonishing ignorance of 
his duty. He is a grenadier, he says, in a battalion, and he 

17 c 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

does not know that when the alarm is beaten his post is 
with his battalion. The citizen at the bar is guilty, in that 
he was with the King without orders, and that he was not 
with his battalion. I call upon you, then, to send the citizen 
to prison. {Cheers.) 

M. Breard. — I wish to observe that this person is said to 
have been an aide-de-camp to M. La Fayette and a member 
of the King''s Guard. I beg you will ask him if it is true. 

The President. — Were you aide-de-camp to M. de la 
Fayette after the beginning of the Revolution ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — Yes, Monsieur. 

The President. — And was it after that time that you 
served in the King's Guard ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — Yes, Monsieur. 

The President. — Since when have you been in the 
National Guard ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — Since the beginning of the Revolution, 
except during the time that I was aide-de-camp to M. La 
Fayette and serving in the King's Guard. 

The President. — What was your father's profession ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — He had none. 

The President. — What is your name ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — Rohan-Chabot ; but I may add that 
I only use the name of Chabot. 

The President. — Have you always served in the same 
battalion since you were enrolled in the National Guard ? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — Always, Monsieur le President, except 
during the time when I was aide-de-camp to M. La Fayette 
and was serving in the King's Guard. 

The President. — When M. La Fayette came to the Na- 
tional Assembly did you accompany him as his aide-de-camp .? 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — M. le President, it is a long time 
since I was M. La Fayette's aide-de-camp ; I did not accom- 
pany him when he appeared at this bar, and I was not 
within the precincts of the legislative body when he came 
here. 

M. Choudieu. — I beg that the gentleman may be questioned, 
not as to whether he accompanied M. La Fayette to the bar 
as his aide-de-camp, because we all know that M. La Fayette 

18 



THE ROHAN-CHABOT INCIDENT 

appeared there alone, and that the aides-de-camp were at the 
door of the Hall, but simply as to whether he accompanied 
M. La Fayette at all. Speaking for myself, I believe this 
gentleman was an aide-de-camp on the occasion, and I am 
even prepared to assert it definitely, unless he denies the fact 
in so many words. 

, M. Rohan-Chabot. — I do not know if I shall be believed, 
but I give my word of honour that I was not. 

M. Choudieu, — Then I assure the National Assembly that 
I make no assertion to the contrary. 

M. Maribon-Montaut. — We know perfectly well who the 
gentleman is, and what he was doing here. I therefore beg 
to insist upon my first proposal ; namely, that he should be 
put under arrest, examined by a magistrate, and sent back 
to his section. I would further suggest that his papers 
should be sealed. He is sure to be well-informed as to the 
plots that were exposed yesterday, and I feel almost ready to 
declare with certainty that he has, at his house, papers of the 
highest importance. I call upon the Assembly to insist upon 
his giving his address before he leaves the bar, and to have 
his papers sealed before he is set free. 

(The Assembly passed this resolution.) 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — I live in the Rue de Seine, in the 
house of my brother-in-law, M. La Rochefoucauld. 

M. Archier. — I propose that the citizen should be made 
to place upon the table any papers that he may have on him, 
to be handed over to the magistrate, 

(The Assembly adopted M, Archier's resolution.) 

A Member. — I propose, as an amendment, that the papers 
in question should be numbered and initialed by the secre- 
taries of the Assembly. 

(The Assembly adopted this amendment.) 

The President. — Sir, you have heard the terms of the 
decree. 

M. Rohan-Chabot. — Here are two pocket-books. One of 
them, the smaller, contains some assignats ; the other contains 
various papers, I have nothing else — you can search me. 

Several Members. — No, no ! 

M. Archier. — I propose that a paper band should be put 

19 c 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

on the pocket-book containing papers, and that the one 
containing assignats should be returned to Monsieur. 

(The Assembly decreed that the first pocket-book should 
be returned to M. Rohan-Chabot, and that the second, 
without being opened, should be sealed with the seal of the 
Assembly on two paper bands, upon which the Sieur Chabot 
and one of the secretaries should write their signatures. 

M. Fauchet. — I propose that M. Rohan-Chabot should be 
placed under arrest and taken to his section, with a sufficient 
guard. 

(The Assembly adopted M. Fauchefs resolution.) 
M. Haussmann. — I propose that the officer in charge of 
M. Rohan-Chabot should be entrusted with the decree 
enjoining upon the section to seal up his papers, and that 
the committee of the section should supply the legislative body 
with a list of the papers enclosed in the pocket-book we 
are sending them. 

(The Assembly passed M. Haussmann"'s resolution.) 
M. Rohan-Chabot left the Hall, accompanied by the guard.-^ 
M. Grangeneuve. — Having been charged by the Assembly 
to visit the posts of all the sentinels round the building, 
I have seen them all and found everthing quiet. There are 
lights in the garden ; a strict watch is being kept ; and the 
Assembly may feel secure as to their own safety and that of 
those who have been entrusted to them. (Cheers.) 

1 He was taken to the Abbaye prison, and died in the massacre of 
2nd Sept. 



20 



THE TEMPLE 

(August 13th, 1792 — August 1st, 1793) 

The Assembly j, however, did not really feel secure. They 
wished to keep the King imprisoned, but at the same time feared 
lest their hostage should be wrested from them, and showed a 
feverish anxiety to be delivered from their difficult charge. On 
this subject the Legislative Assembly and the Commune of Paris 
— which, we must not forget, was an insurrectionary and not an 
elected body — engaged in a duel, of which, though a detailed 
account of it would be instructive in more ways than one, we 
will be content to note only the principal incidents. 

On the 10th August the Legislative Assembly had decreed 
that, as soon as order was restored, the royal family should be 
removed to the Luxembourg, since the Tuileries had been 
rendered uninhabitable by the depredations of the mob. On the 
morning of the 11th August the Commune begged the Assembly 
to rescind their decree of the previous day, on the grounds that 
the Luxembourg was difficult to guard ; suggested the Temple, 
which contained both a sumptuous palace and a deserted tower ; 
and cleverly leaving it uncertain which of the two buildings was 
to shelter the prisoners, laid great stress upon the advantages to 
be derived frorn the large garden that surrounded the buildings. 

The Assembly, tired of the discussion, revoked their decree, 
and sent the suggestion of the Commune to the Commission of 
Twelve. 

An hour later a new deputation from the municipal body 
appeared at the bar, offering to lodge the prisoners in the Arch- 
bishop's palace. This proposition, like the first, was sent on to 
the Commission. 

On the following day, the 12th August, it was discovered that 
the Episcopal Palace had the same disadvantages as the Luxem- 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

bourg : there were undergi'ound passages connecting it with the 
river, which might make escape possible. The Assembly forth- 
with decreed that the King and his family should be lodged in 
the house of the Minister of Justice;, in the Place Vendome, 
which was to be fitted up with furniture from the Tuileries. But 
the Commune still expressed dissatisfaction. The Hotel de la 
Chancellerie was a palace, and it was in a prison that one wished 
to keep one's enemies. A fresh deputation insisted upon the 
revocation of this second decree, and upon the imprisonment of 
the royal family in the Temple, " whither they should be con- 
ducted with all the respect due to misfortune." 

Once more the Assembly obediently yielded : they revoked 
their decree, and, tired of the struggle, decided to leave "the 
choice of the King's residence and the guarding of his person " 
in the hands of the Commune of Paris. In consequence of this, 
towards the evening of the 13th August, Louis XVI., Marie 
Antoinette, Madame Royale, the Dauphin, and Madame Elizabeth 
were removed, under a strong guard, to the Temple. With the 
exception of the respect due to misfortune the affair was conducted 
in accordance with the decision of the Commune. The Assembly 
had triumphed over one master, but had found another and a far 
more exacting one ! 

The topography of the Temple during the revolutionary 
period has never been dealt with at all thoroughly. Many 
historians have gone into the subject at great length, but unfor- 
tunately without taking the trouble to refer to the original 
documents. 

Beauchesne, for instance, was content to base his book on 
Louis XVII. upon a plan of the Precincts of the Temple in 1811, 
which he borrowed from Barillet's Recherckes sur le Temple, 
changing nothing — except the date ! He put it before his 
readers, that is to say, as a plan of the Temple in 1793. 

Although the entire subversion of the district makes it difficult 
to form a correct plan of the original building, yet perhaps it is 
not too late to attempt to throw light on this interesting point in 
the topography of Paris. This we have endeavoured to do, by 
constructing a plan, house by house, of the surroundings of the 
Temple Tower as they existed in 1792, and by following, with 
the help of the original documents in the Archives, the various 
changes that the Revolution brought about in the general arrange- 
ment of the buildings. 



THE TEMPLE 

Let us remember that there were within the Temple Precincts 
three groups of buildings destined for very different purposes : 
1st : The palace and its offices, devoted until 1789 to the use of 
the Comte d' Artois ; Sndly, the old Commandery ^ (court-house, 
chapter-house, priory, cloisters, church, etc.) ; and Srdly, the 
private buildings that had been erected one by one within the 
Precincts, and formed a sort of little town, with its gates, its 
guard, its own magistrates and its own market. This last group 
of houses we have omitted from our plan, as it played no part in 
the events of the revolution. 

The entrance, the only entrance to the Temple Precincts before 
1789;, was an enormous archway, set obliquely in a recess in the 
Rue du Temple. (Plan A. The surroundings of the Temple in 
August, 1792. No. 1.) It is true that in the same street, almost 
at the corner of the Rue de la Corderie, there was another door 
with a portico (same plan. No. 2), but this only led to the palace 
of the Comte d' Artois, The court (3) of this palace was huge, 
and the end near the street was in the form of a semicircle. It 
was surrounded by a path shaded by trees. Two gates (4) led to 
the offices ; namely the Cour des Cuisines (6), from which a covered 
passage (7) led into the Temple Precincts ; the Cour du Garde- 
Meuble (8) ; and the Coiir couverte or covered court (9). 

The palace itself was entered by two flights of steps — five steps 
in each (10). The usual entrance was in the south wing, where 
the rooms of the Comte d' Artois were situated. Near the door 
was a wide staircase (11) leading to the first storey; then came 
the first ante-room (12), the guards' room — which is faithfully 
represented in Olivier's pretty picture in the Versailles Museum 
— (13), and a salon, lighted by six windows overlooking the 
garden (14). Between this and the Rue de la Corderie were the 
private rooms ; the bedroom of the Comte d' Artois (15), the 
Turkish room (I6), the library (17), a dressing-room (18), a bath- 
room and its heating apparatus (19 and 20). 

It is by the help of the architect Bellange's unpublished 
drawings in the Print Room that we have been able to make a 
detailed plan of this part of the palace.^ 

1 {I.e. the Manor belonging to the Knights Templars. — Translator's 
note). 

'^ It was in these rooms that it was at first intended to lodge the royal 
family. On the 13th August the Commune were not agreed on the 
subject : " The discussion opened, and several members combated the 
proposition that the King should be confined in the Temple Palace rather 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

The central portion of the building contained a billiard-room 
(21), a large salon (22), and a reception room (23), which was 
doubtless the room represented in Olivier s picture in the Louvre : 
Un the chez la princesse de Conti, au Temple. The left, or north 
wing, finally, comprised two salons (24 and 35) and the room of 
the Comte d'Artois' first valet-de-chambre (26). A flight of stairs 
(28) led from the large salon to the garden. Another flight of 
steps led from the terrace outside the prince's private rooms (29) 
to a small private garden. A courtyard and some offices (30 and 
31) completed the palace proper. 

If we now return to the great gateway and enter the Precincts, 
the first thing we see on the right will be a mass of confused 
buildings forming the Court of the Indemnity (32), the word Court 
being used in its Parisian sense of a district or close. A passage, 
covered at both ends (33) separated these buildings from the 
offices of the palace, and was called the Passage of the Indemnity. 
Its eastern extremity led into the Stables (6 1), while towards the 
west it ended in the Court of the Little Fortress (34). On the 
left of the main entrance (1) was the house of the gatekeeper of 
the Precincts (35), and close beside it stood that of the beadle of 
the church (S6). 

The figures 37 show the positions of two sentry boxes. The 
Temple Precincts had, as we have said, their own court of justice ; 
they had also, therefore, their own prison (38), and close beside 
it a chapel reserved for the prisoners. It was reached by a sort 
of cul-de-sac (39). 

The centre of the Great Court of the Precincts (40) was 
obstructed by a group of barracks, which remained standing long 
after the period of the Revolution. Behind these barracks was 
a covered way (53) leading to the old Commandery. Another 
passage, a long one (41), burrowed under the conventual 
buildings, behind which was an alley called the Petite Rue {5Q), 
leading, like the Rue Haute (55), to the Cour du Chameau (58), 
where stood the remains of an old tower known as the Tour de 
Cesar (57). For the other buildings in the Precincts we refer the 
reader to the little plan on p. 25. 

The Commandery, as we have said, was reached by a covered 
passage (53). To right and left were two fragments of the 

than in the Tower ; when the discussion closed it was decreed that the 
resolution naming the Tower should be adhered to." (Minutes of the 
Commune of Paris, 13th Aug.) 

24 




GENERAL PLAN OF THE TEMPLE PRECINCTS IN 1792. 

The enclosure of the Temple, of which at the end of the eighteenth 
century the original form was still unchanged, was a huge demesne 
covering about 125 hectares. The territory was enclosed by walls, and 
was so enormous that the dependants of the Grand Priory could not make 
use of the whole of it. Permission was therefore given for the building of 
houses for artisans, who by living in this privileged enclosure were able to 
evade the rules and regulations of their corporations. Then, one by one, 
private houses were erected, and the enclosure became a veritable town, 
whose inhabitants, in 1789, numbered 4,000 (Mercier, Tableau de Paris). 

The accompanying plan will suffice to give an idea of this strange 
agglomeration at the beginning of the Revolution. 

1 Gateway of the Temple. — 2 Old building of the Commandery. — 
3 Buildings erected about 1750 and known as the new buildings.— 4 The 
Baths, formerly called the Hotel Poirier. — 5 Hotel de Boisboudran. — 
6 Hotel de Guise. ^7 Hotel de Boufflers, and its fine English garden. — 
8 Treasury of the Grand Priory. — 9 Cour de la Corderie (this court and 
part of the Treasury are still in existence). — 10 Rue de la Rotonde. — 
11 The Rotunda. — ^12 Csesar's Tower. — 13 Remains of a Roman building. 
— 14 Cour du Lion d'Or. — -15 Cour du Chameau and alley of the same 
name. — 16 Rue Haute. — 17 A little street. — 18 Barracks. — 19 Hotel du 
Bel- Air. — 20 Remains of the Cloisters. — -21 The Prior's house. — 22 Church. 
— 23 Cemetery. — 24 Chapter House. — 25 Hotel de Rostaing. — 26 Bailliage. 
— 27 Palace of the Grand Prior. — 28 Piiblic Garden. — 29 Slaughter-house. 
— 30 Kitchen of the Palace. — 31 Stables. — 34 and 35 Fountains. 



25 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

ancient cloisters (42) forming a right angle^ and bordering the 
court that surrounded the Church (54). The church itself com- 
prised a porch (43);, a rotunda (44)^ the nave^, or main body of the 
building (45), the Chapel of the Holy Name of Jesus (46), the 
Chapel of Notre Dame de Lorette (47), a bell-tower (48), the 
Chapel of Saint Pantaleon (49), and a sacristy (51) opening into 
the little yard (50). The plan of this church has been very 
skilfully traced out by M. de Curzon in La Maison du Temple 
de Paris, so we will say no more on the subject. 

Suffice it to say that the Temple Church was closed in 1791^ 
but remained standing throughout the time that Louis XVI. and 
his family were imprisoned in the neighbouring Tower. The 
State did not take possession of it till the 19th August, 1796. It 
was bought for 187,500 livres in paper money, or 4,008 francs in 
gold, by a man called Carlet who lived in the Precincts and had 
formerly been a wig-maker. He pulled down the church and 
sold the materials. 

The Cemetery of the Precincts (52) was beyond the east end of 
the church. The house of the vicar-prior was quite near to it (60). 

The Comte d'Artois, in the character of Grand Prior, had 
added the offices of the old Commandery to the outbuildings of 
his own palace, and had made them into stables (62), for which 
reason the yard that they surrounded was called the Stable 
Court (6l). They were all insignificant buildings, or sheds, and 
may be seen on p. 25. This sketch was actually taken in the 
Stable Court, the artist being seated at the point marked A in 
plan A. 

A passage (63) led from the court surrounding the church (54) 
to the public gardens of the Temple (83). The archway that 
undermined the gallery (77) — to which we will return later — was 
at a lower level than the rest of the passage, and after passing 
through it, it was necessary to climb a few steps to the level of 
the garden, a resort very popular with the people of the neigh- 
bourhood (83). 

The Bailiff^'s house {Q5), the court-house in which he presided 
(64), the Hotel de Rostaing (67), and the quarters of the petty 
officials connected with the church (68), surrounded the Cour du 
Baillage, which was approached by a covered passage {QQ). 

A carriage-entrance (69) led into the Court of the Chapter- 
house (70), round which were grouped the Hotel de Vernicourt 
(78), and the buildings belonging to the Chapter (7l), whose 

26 



THE TEMPLE 

backs were towards the little Tower, which contained, on its 
ground floor, a chapel (74) and a room (75). Between the Court 
of the Chapter-house and the great Tower (76) was the Court of 
the Dungeon (73), which was approached by a covered passage 
(72). The great Tower communicated directly with the palace 
by means of a narrow covered passage (77) with an elbow in it 
at the spot where it passed above the public entrance to the 
garden (63). 

In 1787 an enormous structure called the Temple Rotunda had 
been built to serve as a market place, and this had somewhat 
altered the appearance of the Precincts. Near this rotunda, in 
an angle formed by the garden-walls of the Hotel Vernicourt 
(79) a public fountain had been raised (80); and in 1789, the 
means of access to the new market-place had been simplified by 
the cutting of a door (81) in the walls of the Precincts ; and this 
also enabled the inhabitants of the district to enter the garden 
by a second gate (82). 

The plans of the Manor of the Temple as it was in 1789, and 
various topographical drawings preserved in the National 
Archives, furnished us with the details of the above survey, 
details that may to some seem too minute, but that will by no 
means be without interest to those who wish to follow the various 
accounts of the events that took place in the Temple between 
the 13th August, 1792, and the 9th June, 1795. 

When Louis XVI. 's family were first immured there the sur- 
roundings of the Temple were as we have just described them 
(plan A). The carriage in which the prisoners were conveyed 
from the Riding School of the Tuileries to the Temple passed 
through the gateway (2), and drew up in the middle of the 
palace court (3), which was ablaze with lights. As the rooms in 
the Tower were not yet prepared for the reception of guests, the 
royal family remained for a few hours in the palace, where the 
Commune entertained them at a grand dinner arranged in the 
large salon (22). As the Dauphin was so sleepy that he could 
hardly stand, a member of the Commune took him in his arms 
and carried him through the rooms (23-24-25) and the covered 
way (77) to the Tower ; which explains why it was that Madame 
de Tourzel, who no doubt was in the Temple for the first time 
and did not know the gallery in question, spoke afterwards of 
tortuous and gloomy subterranean passages. 

The Great Tower (76) in which the Commune had determined 

27 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

to confine the prisoners was in such a state of dilapidation that 
Louis XVI. and his family were temporarily lodged in the little 
Tower (74 and 75), whose rooms were hastily made ready with 
furniture from the Tuileries. Louis XVI. was not transferred to 
the Great Tower till the 30th September ; and it was not till the 
26th October that Marie Antoinette^ with her children and 
Madame Elizabeth^ joined him there. 

Great changes^ involving much labour^ took place in the 
interval, with the object, not only of making the interior of the 
Tower more suitable for its purpose, but also of isolating it in 
such a way that it might be easily guarded. Any guard would 
have been useless had the prison remained enclosed as it is 
depicted in plan A, in a mass of buildings inhabited by private 
individuals. In order that all attempts at escape might be 
nipped in the bud it was necessary to isolate the building 
absolutely, and the work of doing this was begun on the 15th 
August, 1792. Patriot Palloy was entrusted with the undertak- 
ing,i and lost no time in starting operations. The buildings 
numbered 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 71, 72, 78, in plan A, were taken 
down in a few days, — (there is a plan of the demolished houses 
in the National Archives)— and their place filled by a sort of 
square, surrounded by a high wall, which was supported by 
numerous buttresses on the inner side. (See plan B.) Outside 
this new enclosure the public passage leading to the garden was 
left as it was (plan B, 63) ; and near this passage a guard-house 
was placed, in the old buildings of the Baillagfe. (See the 
drawing facing p. 94.) Palloy's wall had only one door, open- 
ing into the Temple Garden and facing the south front of the 
Great Tower ; and at this door a guard-house was placed without 
delay. But soon, with a view to communicating more easily 
with the outside world, another door was made in the wall on the 
western side of the square, facing the palace steps ; and here a 
second guard-house was established, and a man named Mancel, 
formerly a servant of the Comte D'Artois, placed in it in the 
capacity of turnkey. 

It was while these alterations were being carried out that one 
of the National Guards on duty at the Temple took the interest- 
ing sketch facing page 124. This National Guard was called 
Le Queux, and was by profession an architect. In the fore- 
ground of his picture he placed the whole family of Louis XVI. 

^ Minutes of the Commune of Paris; sittings of the 11th and 13th 
August, 1792. 

28 




PLAN A. 

THE SURROUNDINGS OF THE TEMPLE TOWER IN AUGUST, 1792, ACCORDING TO UNPUBLISHED 

DOCUMENTS. 

29 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

taking their daily walk^ and took the trouble to add the note 
that may still be read at the foot of the drawing, on the left : / 
saw them there. 

As for the curious sketch reproduced between pp. 122 and 123 
it was drawn from nature with the most careful accuracy in the 
autumn of 1793. We see the Dauphin walking about in charge of 
Simon, who is wearing the bonnet rouge. This drawing, which has 
never been published before, is among the valuable relics of the 
royal family collected by M. Otto Friedrichs. We hei-e express our 
gratitude to him for his kindness in authorising us to publish it. 

In addition to the sentinels posted on the ground floor of the 
two towers, there was the main guard in the Temple Palace. 
This consisted of an officer in command, a chef de legio7i, a sous- 
adjutant-major, a colour-bearer, twenty gunners — with guns 
mounted in the court of the palace — and between two hundred 
and two hundred and fifty men. 

A man called Gachet, who had formerly been the gate-keeper 
of the palace, had opened a canteen for the National Guards in 
his lodge. (Plan B, 5.) 

The kitchen (6), formerly devoted to the use of the palace, 
still supplied the tables of all who were employed on the 
premises, all the municipal officers and guards, as well as the 
family of Louis XVI. Gagnie was the head of this department, 
and had under his orders Meunier — who kept a cook-shop — 
Marchand, Turgy, Chretien, and others. We shall find all these 
names in the narratives we are about to read. 

These domestics lived in the outbuildings of the palace (SO 
and 31). One can easily understand that so large a population 
entailed constant communication between the Temple and the 
town. It is true that the Tower, isolated behind Palloy's wall, 
was cut off entirely from the outer world ; but it was otherwise 
with the palace, teeming as it was with a multitude of servants 
and officials, and soldiers who were also citizens, all of whom had 
interests and business beyond the Precincts. 

It therefore became the custom to leave the palace, not by the 
main entrance (2) where it was necessary to show a ticket, but 
by a circuitous way. On the 30th Prairial, year II., various 
people were formally accused before the Council of leaving the 
Temple by the door near the stables ; and it was stated that " to 
enter by this door it was only necessary to knock with a piece of 
sandstone kept for the purpose on one of the projecting hinges 
of the door, on the left, at the sound of which Citizen Piquet, the 

30 




PLAN B. 

JTHE SUKROUNDINGS OF THE TEMPLE TOWER IN JANUARY, 1793, ACCORDING TO UNPUBLISHED 
' DOCUMENTS. 

31 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

porter, came at once to answer the summons. And the Members 
of the Council observed it to be perfectly true that there was a 
door on the left opening into the Temple Precincts, through 
which the mother or mother-in-law of Citizen Gagnie, as well as 
Simon's wife ^ and other persons residing in the same vicinity 
were allowed to pass." (See Plan B, 7.) 

A mere glance at Plan B will suffice to show that it was easy 
to drive into the court of the palace (3), but impossible to go any 
further except on foot. It follows that all the modern stories 
that represent Louis XVI. as driving from the foot of the Tower 
either to the Convention or to the scaffold, are incorrect in this 
particular. The mistake would not have been made if the authors 
of the stories in question had read the contemporary narratives 
with the help of an accurate plan. 

Every one who left the Tower was obliged to walk across the 
square enclosed by Palloy's wall, and through the Temple Garden 
and the rooms of the palace, and could only get into a carriage 
at the steps (10). Moelle, an eye-witness, relates that on the 
26th December, 1792, Louis XVI., on his return from the Con- 
vention, left the carriage at the door of the principal Pavilion 
(the palace) and walked, with the Mayor on his right hand, from 
the Pavilion to the Tower. 

A few days later Goret, who escorted Malesherbes when he 
came to tell Louis XVI. the news of his condemnation, says : 
"We crossed the great Court to the gate of the Temple, where 
his carnage was waiting for him." 

Thus it was on the 21st January. The prisoner left Palloy's 
enclosure by the first guard-house — (we believe, though we 
cannot positively assert, that the second guard-house had not 
yet been built at this time) — turned to the right, crossed the 
greater part of the Temple Garden — (we know that he twice 
turned to look at the Tower, which he could not have done 
if he had driven away from the very door of the prison) — 
ascended the steps (28), and by way of the rooms (22, 21, 12) 
occupied by the guard, reached the great court of the palace, 
where the Mayor's carriage awaited him. 

It is unnecessary to go into further details. This example 
will serve to show that the accompanying plans may assist very 
effectually in the study of the various authentic accounts of the 
imprisonment of Louis XVI. 's family. 

^ Simon's wife can only have come here at this time as a visitor. She 
had given up her official position at the Temple in January, 1794. 

32, 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

COMMISSIONER OF THE COMMUNE 

(August, 1792— October, 1793) 

The following valuable document, now for the first time 
published in its entirety, is preserved in M. Victorien Sardou's 
collection of autographs. 

In the libi'aiy of Saint-Germain-en-Laye there is a collection 
of unconnected documents bound together in one volume, with 
the title : Louis XV I.' s Defence : the Queen s copy. It is so called, 
no doubt, because the first of these documents is a printed copy 
of de Size's defence of the King before the Convention, and 
bears the words Opjwrtet imum mori jjro populo, in Marie 
Antoinette's handwriting. This pamphlet was given to her in 
the Temple. 

This volume also contains a written copy, obviously modern, 
of an Account of all that took place in the Temple during the 2nd 
and 3rd September, 1792, by a mtinicipal officer of the Commune. 
According to M. Georges Bertin this copy was written by 
M. A. T. Barbier, once the Secretary of the Imperial Libraries, 
who died in Paris on the 7th November, 1859. It was he who 
presented this book to the library of Saint-Germain. 

Now, who was the municipal officer who wrote this narrative ? 
Danjou they say. This, at least, is the opinion of Beauchesne, 
who quotes a portion of it ; of the editors of the Revue Retrospec- 
tive, who published extracts from it ; and of M. Georges Bertin 
himself, who went fully into it afresh in his book on Madame de 
Lamballe. 

There was, it is true, on the General Council of the Commune, 
a certain Jean Pierre Andre Danjou, a schoolmaster and un- 
frocked priest, living in the Rue de Coq-Saint-Jean (see the 
National Almanach for the year 1793). He sat among the most 

33 D 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

fanatical members of the municipal body^ and we shall presently 
see the terms in which his colleague Goret spoke of him. 

Well;, although the manuscript is unsigned^ it is proved by 
the internal evidence of the nan-ative itself that its author was 
not DanjoUj but the municipal officer, Daujon. The confusion 
arose, no doubt, from the similarity of the names, but the 
mistake would never have been made if Beauchesne, who was 
the first to publish a few pages of the story, had studied 
the manuscript in its entirety and had closely examined its 
contents. It is Danjou, then, who is praised by every historian 
for the courage with which the perpetrators of the Septem- 
ber Massacres, on arriving at the Temple with the remains of 
Madame de Lamballe, were repulsed by the municipal officers 
on duty. But the man who, for more than an hour, restrained 
this horde of maniacs, was none other than Daujon ; and the 
following note by Goret, the municipal officer, leaves no possible 
doubt on the subject. 

"The news came that the Princesse de Lamballe had just 
fallen a victim, and that some madmen were on their way to the 
Temple carrying the Princess's head at the end of a pike. The 
Council shuddered, but were silent. One of their members, an 
artist called Daujon, was at the Temple, and saw this frantic mob 
approaching. He went to meet them, but could not prevent 
them from approaching the building beside the Tower, where 
the King and his family were confined. The windows of this 
building were not barred, and were only fifteen or sixteen feet 
above the ground. The crowd were shouting at the top of their 

voices Daujon, wearing his scai'f, quickly jumped upon a 

heap of stones that happened to be below the window, and 
began to harangue the crowd in such a way that he managed to 

restrain them Daujon followed them to the door leading 

out of the Temple, and— having hastily procured a tricoloured 
ribbon — he hung it, as soon as they had passed through, before 
the door of the Temple, which he left open. " Cross that barrier 
if you dare ! " he said to the retreating mob. 

" When Daujon next went on duty as the King's warder, 
the latter said to him : ' You saved our lives, and we thank 
you. You said nothing more than was necessary in such 
circumstances. ' 

" .... I heard this story from Daujon himself. I believe 
Clery speaks of Daujon in his History of the Temple, but in such 

34 



THE NARHATIVE OF DAUJON 

terms that he appears not to be a partisan of the King^ or at 
least not to care for him 

If any further proof were required to establish the true 
authorship of the Account of the 2nd and 3rd September, wrongly 
attributed to Danjou, we might find it in this passage from the 
MS. itself: 

"1 heard this son accuse his mother and his aunt .... I 
heai'd it^ / wrote it 

This refers to the Dauphin and the horrible deposition wrung 
from the child by Hebert. Now on that occasion the registrar's 
pen was in the hand of Daujon ; it was he who recorded the 
answers of Marie Antoinette's son ; it was he who signed the 
report of that hateful inquiry. Goret indeed is very explicit on 
this point. He adds : 

" It was this same Daujon who was acting as secretary when 
the young prince was subjected, in the Temple, to an examina- 
tion on the subject of the slanderous and infamous statements that 
had been circulated with regard to the Queen. Here, word for 
word, is what Daujon told me on the subject of that examination, 
and I may say that I considered him a man worthy of belief. 

"The young prince," he told me, "was seated in an armchair, 
swinging his little legs ; for his feet did not reach the ground. 
He was examined as to the statements in question, and was 
asked if they were true : he answered in the affirmative. 
Instantly Madame Elizabeth, who was present, cried out, ' Oh, 
the monster ! ' — ' As for me,' added Daujon, ' I could not regard 
this answer as coming from the child himself, for his air of 
uneasiness and his general beaiing inclined me to believe that 
it was a suggestion emanating from some one else, — the effect 
of his fear of punishment or ill treatment, with which he may 
have been threatened if he failed to comply. I fancy that 
Madame Elizabeth cannot really have been deceived either, but 
that her surprise at the child's answer wrung that exclamation 
from her.' " 

And what sort of man was this Daujon who lent himself to 
such repulsive tasks ? In the General List of Cofmnissio?iers from 
the Forty-eight Sections rvho composed the General Council of the 
Commune of the 10th August he is mentioned, without any 
reference to his profession, as living at No. 40 in the Faubourg 
Saint Martin. Goret, who seems to have known him fairly 
intimately, describes him as a painter; though further on, it 

35 D 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

is true^ he speaks of his talent as a sculptor. It is thus^ too, 
that the General Dictmiary of French Artists describes him ; and 
as a matter of fact Daujon's work was not without merit. 
There is a Head of Medusa by him in the Louvre, a bas-rehef 
in bronze. 

"Daujon" — to accept Goret's evidence once more — "was 
a man of extraordinary energy ; but I never saw him," he adds, 
"show any inchnation for the iniquitous deeds that were so 
common during the stormy times of the Revohition ; on the 
contrai-y^ he was merely what was then called an ardent patriot, 
without any feelings of hatred or revenge ; and I knew him well 
enough to have perfect confidence in the statements he made to 
me with regard to certain events that I did not see myself. . . . 

" Daujon died several years ago,^ after having for some time 
filled the office — under Bonaparte, whom he did not like, — of 
national commissioner in the municipality of Paris. He told 
me that, being a sculptor, he had some knowledge of physiog- 
nomy, and that he observed in Bonaparte's features the 
characteristics of a despotic tyrant. Daujon, who was no 
longer a member of the General Council, escaped on the 9th 
Thermidor. At that time he was in prison as a ^suspect,' 
having been sent thither by Robespierre ; which is not sur- 
prising, for that monster feared every man who showed any 
energy and did not bend beneath his yoke." 

Energetic, a revolutionary by conviction, hating t3rranny 
deeply, but neither wicked nor cruel : such is the man whom 
we shall see depicted in the following pages. We have copied 
them word for word from Daujon's original MS., which M. 
Victorien Sardou was kind enough to place at our disposal. 
We beg him to accept our respectful gratitude. 

The Narrative of Daujon 
If there be one thing more than another calculated to 
increase our scepticism with regard to any story tinged with 
the marvellous, it is the obvious discrepancy that exists 
between different contemporary accounts of events actually 
witnessed by the narrators ; events in which we ourselves 
were actors, and yet should not recognise if the scene were 
placed elsewhere and the names of the persons concerned 
were changed. We are all secretly inclined to emphasise 

^ Goret wrote these words in 1814. 

36 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

the dark side of a story or to show the bright side in the 
best hght, according to the special bearing of the events 
upon our own hfe and standpoint, and according to the 
sentiments that affect us individually, and that we therefore 
desire to affect others. Every story-teller believes himself to 
be one of the heroes of the events he records, and is there- 
fore interested in making the most of it : he invests the 
subject with the charm of his particular genius, and 
according to the nature of his own inspiration creates a 
monster — or an angel. 

Creations such as these, the chimerical offspring of vanity 
or self-interest, are often laid before the student as true 
pictures of human action. They are seized by ready 
credulity, propagated by greed, and accepted forthwith by 
history. 

The place called the Temple, to which Capet and his 
family were taken as prisoners on the 16th August, 1792, 
is an unprepossessing building in Paris, situated in the Rue 
du Temple and near the boulevard of the same name. In 
the middle of the garden there is a very high tower, very 
solid, and flanked by four turrets, in one of which is a little 
spiral staircase that leads to the upper part of the tower. 
The walls of the Great Tower are about seven feet thick, 
which gives the embrasures of the windows the appearance 
of little rooms. These windows were afterwards darkened by 
screens on the outside, so that no light entered except from 
the top, and it was impossible to see anything but the sky. 

At the time of which I am about to speak certain external 
alterations were being made for the sake of greater security ; 
such as the demolition of some houses near the Tower ; the 
digging of a fosse to isolate it — but this scheme was never 
carried out ; the placing of several doors upon the staircase ; 
and various changes in the interior arrangements for the 
prisoners'* accommodation : and this increased the vigilance 
of the Council of the Temple, which must not be confused 
with the General Council of the Commune. The latter, 
which was especially charged with the custody of the 
prisoners, delegated the actual guardianship of the latter 
to eight members chosen from among themselves, who 

37 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

were renewed, four at a time, according to the following 
system. 

Every evening the General Council chose ^ four commis- 
sioners to relieve the four who had been longest on duty.^ 
Each man was on duty for forty-eight consecutive hours. 
During the day there were always two with the prisoners ; 
the six others, who remained on the ground floor and were 
responsible for the efficiency of the whole guard, composed 
the Council of the Temple. They gave orders to the soldiers 
on the premises, decided on any step that seemed good to 
them, and informed the General Council of their intentions 
whenever they thought the matter so important that they 
ought to secure the CounciFs approval before taking action. 

During the night the work was divided as follows. 

The four fresh commissioners drew lots among themselves 
as to which should be the two to spend the night with the 
prisoners, together with two of the four men already on duty, 
chosen by lot the evening before. And as the prisoners were 
separated during the night these four again drew lots among 
themselves to decide who was to be with Capet and who with 
the women and children. Those who were to be with him 
remained in his room, for it was there that they all sat 
together during the day. The others took the women and 
children to their rooms and stayed with them. The relieved 
commissioners, after handing over the orders to the others, 
locked not only all the doors of the rooms, but also the seven 
doors on the staircase of the tower. The keys of all these, 
as well as those of the great outer door, were deposited in 

1 Afterwards they were chosen by drawing lots. {Note hy Daujon.) 
" It was so tinpleasant being on duty in the Temple, and the responsi- 
bility was so great that members fled from the Council Room when they 
saw the urn being brought in which led to the issue of an order enjoining 
upon the commandant of the guard of the Commune to bring to the Temple 
by force any of the members chosen by lot who had not arrived there by 
nine in the evening at latest. Several of them were taken to the Temple 
in this way. This order is a sufficient answer to the calumnies dii'ected 
against the Council to the effect that the members wrangled in their 
eagerness to go to the Temple, on account of the good cheer. At first the 
food was so unwholesome that one always suffered from colic after it ; it 
was not till several months later that it was the same as the prisoners' 
food ; and moreover, it was at this time that the order was issued. {Note 
hy Daujon.) 

38 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

the Council Room in a cupboard cut in the masonry of the 
wall. The oldest of the commissioners kept the key. 

The commissioners slept on folding beds set up in the 
Council Room and in the prisoners'* ante-room. This arrange- 
ment lasted till about the time of Capefs death, and as long 
as the prisoners had valets to wait on them. Afterwards 
they slept alone ; that is to say they were no longer watched 
at night. In their rooms there were bells that rang in the 
Council Room, and the commissioners never failed, night or 
day, to attend the summons if the bells were rung. 

No one was allowed to visit the prisoners without producing 
a decree issued by the Assembly or the National Convention ; 
or an order from the Committee of Surveillance, the Com- 
mittee of Public Safety, the Committee of General Security, 
or the General Council of the Commune. This rule was 
very rarely broken — only now and then in the case of the 
chief magistrates of the Commune, and then only in the 
presence of the commissioners on duty, who were personally 
responsible. 

The National Guard was alone allowed to serve in the 
Temple. There were only a few mounted orderlies on duty 
outside. 

When the prisoners went to their meals one of their valets 
de chamhre unfolded the napkins, broke open the rolls, and 
tasted every dish before they ate any of it themselves. This 
was done in the presence of the commissioners, with the 
object of preventing any correspondence on the one side 
or any foul play on the other. Later on the dishes were 
tasted in the kitchen by the cook, always in the presence of 
the commissioners, and accompanied by the latter to the 
prisoners' table. The same routine was followed in the case 
of medicines, which, after being tasted by the apothecary, 
were sealed by him with his own seal and delivered thus to 
the prisoners. 

Every kind of article that came in or went out, whatever 
its nature, — book, linen, or other garment, — was examined 
very carefully. The prisoners were not allowed the indul- 
gence of paper, ink, or pencils. 

On the 2nd September, 1792, I was with Capet at one of 

39 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

the windows of his room,^ watching the demoHtion of a 
house not far from the Tower. He called my attention to 
the pieces of stone and wood that were on the point of 
falling ; and as each piece fell he broke out into a roar 
of the hearty laughter that indicates simple, good-humoured 
enjoyment. His pleasure was brief. The loud report of 
a gun checked it ; a second report quenched it ; a third 
replaced it with terror. It was the alarm-gun. 

Their ignorance of the events that led to the adoption of 
this unusual measure, the sound of the tocsin and drums, the 
clamour and songs of the labourers leaving their work to take 
their share in the common danger, and no doubt too, the voice 
of a guilty conscience, all combined to give apparent justifi- 
cation to the alarm of the prisoners. Capet asked us if he 
were in any danger. We did not know ; but we told him that 
if any danger were to arise it Avas our duty to see that it was 
removed, and that therefore we should not calmly submit to 
it whatever happened. Our confidence seemed to reassure 
him. 

A moment later Manuel, the pivcureur of the Commune, 
came to ask for news of the prisoners. I brought him into 
the room, and Capet asked him what had occurred. " Verdun 
is taken and Longwy is blockaded." " And what is the 
National Assembly doing?" " They have just decided that 
Verdun is to be razed to the ground." Louis, with a gesture 
of surprise, said smilingly : " That is a great stroke of poli- 
tics, and rather a bold one, but the example may restrain 
other towns." Manuel added that the General Council of 
the Commune had just decreed that the tocsin should be 
instantly rung, the alarm-gun fired, and the call to arms 
beaten, as a means of summoning every citizen to fly to the 
defence of the frontiers and prevent the enemy from reaching 
Paris. Capet smiled and answered that there was no danger ; 
for the enemy had established no means of obtaining supplies 

^ I said above that the windows were darkened by screens. To 
explain this apparent contradiction I must mention that at the time of 
which I speak the rooms to which they were removed, the rooms with the 
screens, were being repaired. At this time the prisoners were on the first 
floor of a kind of building that adjoined the Tower, but was not really an 
essential part of it, so to speak. (Note by Daujon. ) 

40 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

suitable for such a purpose, and would find the retreat a much 
harder matter than the invasion, etc., etc. It was about two 
o'clock ; the new guard came in ; Manuel left us, and we went 
down to the Council Room. 

Between four and five o'clock two commissioners presented 
themselves before the Council, bearing an Order conceived in 
these terms : 

" It is decreed by the General Council that the man Hue, 
Capefs valet de chambre, shall be forthwith arrested and 
removed to the Conciergerie : the commissioners M.^ and — 
are charged with the execution of this decree." 

Hue was in the Tower. Capet and his family were walking 
in the garden, accompanied by two commissioners and the 
chiefs of the Staff of the National Guard on duty. Every day 
after dinner the Council permitted them to do this, unless 
there appeared to be some reason against it, which rarely 
happened. 

As it devolved upon me to inform the prisoners of the com- 
missioners' purpose, I summoned them upstairs. When they 
were in their own room the decree of the General Council was 
read aloud to them. Capet complained bitterly of this severe 
measure, saying that the legislative body would be far from 
approving of it if they knew of it. The women far surpassed 
him in acrimony ; especially Elizabeth, who strode up and 
down the room, giving vent to her anger in a loud voice, and 
darting menacing glances at us all.^ Marie Antoinette 
seemed deeply affected by this separation. " It was plain," 
she said, "that the object was to part them from all the 
people who were most attached to them, and in whom they 
had placed their confidence," etc."^ 

1 Mathieu, ex-capuchin. (See the Journal de GUry. ) 

■^ 1 alwaj^s observed in her a great deal of a very deliberate and 
consistent kind of pride that seemed to have neither end nor object, 
that was roused without cause and that nothing could conciliate. A 
good many people, and perhaps she herself, took it for dignity. {Note 
by Daujon.) 

^ I do not know to what degree the prisoners confided in this valet 
de chambre, but I was extremelj' surprised at the civility and kindness 
— at the little attentions even — shown him by Mary Antoinette. They 
never had anything especially nice to eat without sharing it with M. Hue. 
"You like this: I have kept some for you," they would say. Absent 
or present, he was in their thoughts. ' * He takes so much trouble. He 

41 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

In the meantime one of the commissioners charged with 
executing the decree of the General Council seemed to be 
listening very impatiently to the complaints of the prisoners. 
Addressing himself to Capet, he said in a very loud voice : — 
" The alarm-gun has been fired, the tocsin is ringing, and the 
call to arms is still being beaten ; the enemy is at our doors ; 
they are asking for blood ; they are demanding heads. Well, 
it will be yours that they take first ! " 

At these words a cry broke from them all. " Save my hus- 
band ! Have pity on my brother ! "" said the women, rmming 
up to us. The girl, as was natural at her age, appeared 
sensitive and timid ; the son alone showed much more surprise 
than emotion.^ 

Capefs physical condition really inspired the pity that his 
sister was invoking on his behalf ; — not the natural emotion 
that misfortune excites so inevitably and wrings from one's 
heart whether one will or no, but the kind of pity that one 
yields to the distressed for the sake of one's own self-respect. 
Pale and trembling, with his eyes swollen Avith tears, he seemed 
touched by nothing but concern for his own safety. Far from 
remembering that he had been a King, he forgot that he was 
a man ; he had all the cowardice of a disarmed tyrant, and all 
the servility of a convicted criminal. I put an end to this 
exhibition of baseness on one side and vanity on the other by 
begging the commissioner to confine himself to the object of 
his mission. He went off with the valet de chamhre^ and I 

is so obliging ! " I think the Queen would have waited on him if she 
had dared. {Note hy Daujon.) 

^ Elsewhere I shall have some remarks to make on the subject of this 
child. Here I will merely describe, without comment, an incident that 
made me observe him a little more closely than before. 

One day I was having a little game of bowls with him : (it was 
after his father's death, and he was separated from his mother and aunt by 
order of the Committee of Public Safety). The room we were in was beneath 
one of those occupied by his family, and we heard sounds as though 
someone were jumping and dragging chairs about, which made a con- 
siderable amount of noise over our heads. The child said, with an 

impatient gesture : "Are not those sacrees p s guillotined yet ? " Not 

caring to hear any more, I left off playing and_ went away. (Note by 
Daujon. ) 

^ I cannot help observing that it was probably to the vanity of the 
commissioner that this valet de chambre owed his life. The order was 
that he was to be taken to the Conciergerie. His office was enough to 
doom him to the fate of the rest. But the man entrusted with the arrest 

42 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

left the room to escape the gratitude ^ that I saw the pri- 
soners were preparing to express. I returned to the Council 
Room meditating on the strange fate that had made me the 
mediator between a powerful monarch and a wretched 
capuchin. 

On the following day, the 3rd September, we learnt that 
there had been a riot in the prisons. Shortly afterwards we 
heard that some people connected with the Court had been 
massacred. 

Finally, at about one o'clock we were informed of the death 
of the Princesse de Lamballe, whose head, it was said, was 
being brought to the Temple, that Marie Antoinette might 
be made to kiss it. Afterwards they were both to be dragged 
through the streets of Paris. 

In the name of the Council of the Temple I wrote both to 
the General Council of the Commune and to the president of 
the Legislative Assembly, to inform them of the danger 
threatening the hostages confided to our care. We begged 
each of these two bodies to send us six commissioners chosen 
from those of their own members who were most popular with 

— he was an ex-capuchin — took hun to the General Comicil of the Commune, 
boasted of his own behaviour, repeated his harangue, and produced his 
prisoner. The Council, having questioned the latter, appeared satisfied 
with his answers and ordered him merely to be confined in the gaol, 
a kind of lock-up connected with the Commune, where he was kept only a 
short time. This saved him. 

It is possible that both the Commissioners and the Council already had 
misgivings with regard to the prisons. (Note by Daujon.) 

^ On this occasion I succeeded in escaping the prisoners' expressions of 
gratitude ; but about a month later, on ray return from the country — 
whither I had gone on a mission from the provincial executive power — I 
was again on diity in the Temple, and the moment the prisoners saw me 
they said countless kind things to me. ' ' In whatever circumstances fate 
may place me," said Capet, " I shall never forget how you risked your 
life to save ours. At present I can do nothing," he added ; " but I have 
been longing to satisfy my heartfelt desire to assure you of our 
gratitude." 

I answered that any of my colleagues would have done as much as I, 
with no object but to do their duty. " You have been deceived as to the 
character of true patriots ; it is thus that they answer their detractors." 

These last vv^ords seemed to impress him deeply. He slowly tiirned his 
head, and looked at his wife with an expression of some feeling, as though 
consulting her. They seemed to be ashamed of being beaten in generosity 
by men whom they generally regarded as cannibals. 

I turned away, so as not to add to the painfulness of their position. 
(Note by Daujon.) 

43 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

the mob, assuring them, in any event, of our entire devotion 
to our duty. 

In the meantime a mounted orderly, despatched to recon- 
noitre, informed us that an immense crowd was approaching 
the Temple, carrying the Lamballe's head and dragging her 
body with them ; that they were demanding Marie Antoinette, 
and that in less than five minutes they would reach the Temple. 

Two commissioners were instantly despatched to meet them, 
to find out their intentions, and to fraternise with them 
ostensibly if circumstances demanded it. Above all they 
were to secure the man who was carrying the head, for it 
was certain that he would lead the mob, and if he could be 
guided according to our wishes the crowd would be more 
easily restrained. 

Two other commissioners were despatched into the neigh- 
bouring districts, to impress upon those who seemed most 
excited that if they were to commit so abominable and use- 
less a crime, Paris could never be cleansed from the stain of 
it. These commissioners were reinforced by several good 
citizens, who promised us to employ every effort to bring the 
most obstinate to reason. 

The clamour increased, and our difficulties with it. The 
officer on duty asked us for orders, adding that he had four 
hundred well-armed men for whom he could answer, but that 
he would take no responsibility. We told him that our 
intention was to employ force only as a last resource for the 
protection of life ; that it was our duty first to make use 
of persuasion ; and that his business, therefore, was to see to 
the security of his arms, etc. He made his arrangements 
accordingly. 

In the street the throng was already prodigious. We had 
both sides of the great gate opened, in order that those out- 
side might be pacified by seeing our peaceable intentions, of 
which further evidence was supplied by a portion of the 
National Guard, who stood unarmed in a double line from 
the outside entrance to the inner door. None the less, all 
the arms, doors, and passages were well guarded in case of a 
surprise. 

We heard prolonged and violent shouting, and then at last 





im.\ 



THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE. 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

they came ! A tricoloured sash, hastily hung in front of the 
main entrance, was the only rampart that the magistrate con- 
sented to raise in opposition to the torrent, which seemed 
really uncontrollable. A chair was placed behind the tri- 
colour ; I climbed upon it, and waited. Soon the bloodthirsty 
horde appeared. 

At the sight of the honoured symbol the murderous frenzy 
in the heart of these men, drunk with blood and wine, seemed 
to yield to a feeling of respect for the national badge. 
Everyone tried with all his strength to prevent the violation 
of the sacred barrier ; to touch it would have seemed to 
them a crime. They were anxious to appear right-minded, 
and actually believed themselves to be so ; for public opinion, 
which constitutes the moral law of the people, has an 
unbounded influence over such men as these, who bow down 
before it even while they are outraging it. 

Two men were dragging along a naked, headless corpse by 
the legs. The back was on the ground ; in front the body 
was ripped open from end to end. They came to a standstill 
before my tottering rostrum, at the foot of which they laid 
out this corpse in state, arranging the limbs with great par- 
ticularity, and with a degree of cold-blooded callousness that 
might give a thoughtful man food for mtich meditation. 

On my right, at the end of a pike, was a head that 
frequently touched my face, owing to the gesticulations of 
the man that carried it. On my left a still more horrible 
wretch was with one hand holding the entrails of the victim 
against my breast, while he grasped a great knife with the 
other. Behind them a huge coal-heaver held suspended at 
the end of a pike, just above my forehead, a fragment of 
linen drenched with blood and mire. 

As they appeared on the scene I extended my right arm, 
and there I stood, absolutely motionless, waiting for silence. 
I obtained it. 

I told them that the municipal body chosen by themselves 
had been entrusted by the National Assembly with a charge 
for which they, the Commune, were responsible not only to 
the Assembly but also to the whole of France, having sworn 
to deliver it up in the state in which they had received it. 

45 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

I told them that when we heard the people had designs on 
the life of the prisoners we refused to oppose them by force 
of arms ; we had rejected the idea with horror, being per- 
suaded that if just arguments were once laid before a 
Frenchman he would not fail to listen to them. I made 
them see how impolitic it would be to deprive ourselves of 
such valuable hostages at the very moment when the enemy 
was in possession of our frontiers. And on the other hand, 
would it not be a proof of the prisoners' innocence if we 
did not dare to bring them to trial ? How much more 
worthy is it of a great people, I added, to condemn a King, 
guilty of treason, to death upon the scaffold ! This 
salutary example, while it strikes well -justified terror into 
the hearts of tyrants, will inspire the peoples of the world 
with a devout respect for our nation, etc. ... I ended by 
entreating them to resist the counsels of a few ill-disposed 
persons who wished to drive the men of Paris into behaving 
with violence in order afterwards to poison the minds of their 
provincial brethren against them ; and then, to show them 
the confidence of the Council in their good intentions, I told 
them it had been decreed that six of them should be 
admitted to march round the garden, with the com- 
missioners at their head. 

Instantly the barrier was removed and about a dozen men 
entered, bearing their spoils. These we led towards the 
Tower, and were able to keep them fairly in check till they 
were joined by the workmen, after which it was more difficult 
to restrain them. Some voices demanded that Marie 
Antoinette should come to the window, whereupon others 
declared that if she did not show herself we must go 
upstairs, and make her kiss the head. We flung ourselves 
before these maniacs, swearing they should only carry out 
their horrible design after passing over the bodies of their 
municipal officers. One of the wretches declared I was taking 
the part of the tyrant, and turned upon me with his pike so 
furiously that I should certainly have fallen under his blows 
if I had shown any weakness, or if another man had not 
opposed him, pointing out that in my place he would be 
obliged to act as I did. My air of unconcern impressed him, 

46 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

and when we went out he was the first to embrace me, and 
call me a fine fellow. 

In the meantime, two commissioners had thrown themselves 
in front of the first inner door of the Tower, and prepared to 
defend the approaches with devoted courage ; whereupon the 
others, seeing that they could not win us over, broke into 
horrible imprecations, pouring out the most disgusting 
obscenities, mingled with fearful yells. This was the final 
gust of the storm, and we waited for it to blow over. Fear- 
ing, however, lest the scene should lead to some climax 
worthy of the actors, I decided to make them another speech. ^ 
But what could I say ? How could I find the way to such 
degraded hearts ? I attracted their attention by gestures ; 
they looked at me, and listened. I praised their courage and 
their exploits, and made heroes of them ; then, seeing they 
were calming down, I gradually mingled reproach with 
praise. I told them the trophies they were carrying were 
common property. " By what right," I added, " do you 
alone enjoy the fruits of your victory ? Do they not belong 
to the whole of Paris ? Night is coming on. Do not delay, 
then, to leave these precincts, which are so much too narrow 
for your glory. It is in the Palais Royal, or in the garden of 
the Tuileries, where the sovereignty of the people has so 
often been trodden under foot, that you should plant this 
trophy as an everlasting memorial of the victory you have 
just won." 

" To the Palais Royal ! " they cried ; and I knew my 
ridiculous harangue had won their approval. They left the 
place ; but first nauseated us with their horrible embraces, 
redolent of blood and wine.^ 

1 This seemed to me the last gentle means that remained to us ; and I 
am convinced, by the ei3Eect I saw produced upon my barbarous audience 
as I went on, that I only gained my end by the big words I used, — words 
that in such a context were an insult to reason and humanity. If I had 
failed I should have seized the sabre of a National Guard and killed the first 
man who had dared to come forward. When a man loves everything connected 
with the glory of his country, and is deeply sensible of the duty it entails, 
there is nothing that he will not attempt, and I would almost say, attempt 
successfully. — (Nofe by Daujo7i.) 

^ We have translated into Latin several lines that cannot be quoted in 
Daujon's words. — (Authors' Note.) 

One of these men, after embracing me, thrust in my face totam cunni 

47 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

In the meantime the Legislative Assembly sent us the six 
commissioners for whom we asked. They learnt with 
pleasure that the rumours that had been already spread were 

exteriorem partem quam ipse a cadavers exciderat: "incecham, aiebat, nemo 
jamfutuet!" Quam partem dmn pilis tenebat, beseemed as proud as the 
leader of the Argonauts. 

On this subject I think I ought to repeat what Bazire told to a friend of 
bis and mine, in whom I have every confidence. 

Bazire was then — during that September — a member of the Comity de 
Surveillance of the legislative body. 

Several men came to the Committee to hand over the Lamballe's pockets, 
in which there were some valuable articles. One of them told me in a sort 
of transport se, postquani hide mulieri exanimi vestem detraxisset, non 
potuisse sibi temperare quin, libidine incensus ad conspectum tarn eximii 
corporis, earn futuerat ; that having next torn her heart out he ate it on 
the spot, and he assured me he had never tasted anything so delicious. He 
even drew my attention to the blood with which his lips weie still stained. 
Then he pulled from his pocket carnis lacerat frustum pilis obductum, 
which he said he had cut off the Lamballe. 

"After placing on the table the gold and jewels they had found on 
her, they asked us for a reward, and their manners and gestures forbade 
all idea of a refusal. We told them to take what they wanted. They 
were satisfied with a coin of twenty-four livres ; but if they had taken 
everything we should have been very glad to be rid of them so 
cheaply." 

I prefer to believe that most of the facts in this story are greatly 
exaggerated, not to say untrue. I will support this opinion. 

1st. The man from whom Bazire says he received this horrible con- 
fidence seems to have been the same who spoke to me at the Temple, 
and showed me what Bazire refers to ; yet this man said nothing to 
me beyond what I have repeated, although it would have been more 
natural and less dangerous to speak openly at that time, since the 
moment of action, if I may so describe it, is most likely to be also the 
moment of expansion. 

2ndly. The massacres of the prisoners took place in public ; and this 
particular murder in such broad daylight that the ovitrage is in- 
conceivable. 

Srdly. Several individuals boasted of having torn out the heart to 
which Bazire alludes ; several others of having eaten it ; others again 
said they saw it on the end of a pike, etc. 

4thly. I found my opinion, moreover, on the fact that it is impossible 
for the most diseased imaginations, even though mastered by the 
blindest passion, to dwell for a moment without horror on some parts 
of this atrocious picture. But finally, I found it on the fact that 
Bazire, when I put forward some of these objections, merely answered : 
"That was what he told me, but I don't believe a word of it." 

And I, too,— did I not hear that son accuse his mother and his aunt of 
things that could hardly take place between self-respecting lovers? I 
heard it — I wrote it down — and I, too, said : I cannot believe a word 
of it. 

Ah ! if we honour humanity, if we respect morality, let us believe that 
the intoxication in which these wretches were wallowing, which had 
perhaps been increased by a certain amount of applause, due,- no doubt, to 
the dangers that threatened the country, had driven them to desecrate all 

48 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

false, and in the name of the legislative body expressed their 
satisfaction with the way we had behaved. 

Hardly had the commissioners departed when Petion, the 
mayor, arrived. He appeared to be in a desperate state 
because we had allowed Marie Antoinette to be made to kiss 
the Lamballe"'s head. " No magistrate," he said, " should 
have permitted anything so horrible." He was delighted to 
hear, not only that no one had entered the Tower, but that 
the commissioners who were with the prisoners had not even 
allowed them to approach the windows to find out the cause 
of the noise in the garden, but had made them go at once 
into another room at the back. 

Santerre, the commandant-general, also came to the 
Temple. 

We did not wish to interrupt Daujon's narrative by notes of 
CUV own, but a short postscript is necessary. 

The passage in which the municipal officer describes the 
moral collapse and unreasoning fear of Louis XVI. at the ap- 
proach of the septemhriseurs is calculated, no doubt, to give a 
shock to many of our readers ; and no one can fail to be 
surprised, since in many other circumstances of greater and 
more imminent danger the King showed so much courage, so 
much resignation — so much insensibility, if the word is pre- 
feiTcd — that it is very astonishing to hear of his trembling at 
the news that a band of murderers was approaching. They 
had been nearer him on the 6th October, and at Varennes, 
and on the 20th June, and he had remained unmoved. When 

that is most sacred. But let us beware of adding anything to what is 
already only too horrible. 

I will end this deplorable tale with a fact that shows how cautious one 
must be in believing anything that is contrary to nature. 

A father and mother, very worthy people, both moral and humane, who 
had trained their children on the same lines, assured me that one of them 
had boasted of taking part in the massacres of September : and that it was 
only a few hours before his death, after a long illness, that he confessed to 
them that he had not even been in the prisons, but had said he had been 
there to avoid looking like a coward, and because he heard others saying 
the same. 

Yet he had covered his sword with blood ; he had put blood upon his 
clothes ; he had accused himself of a crime he had not committed. The 
fac'^ that he had not committed it was a crime against the public opinion 
of the moment ; and how many, perhaps, were guilty of no other. — {Note 
by Daujon.) 

49 E 



LAST DAYS OF MAKIE ANTOINETTE 

he crossed the garden of the Tuileries on the morning of the 
10th August he had been for a quarter of an hour in the very 
midst of an uncontrolled mob^ whose appetite had been whetted 
by the blood of the newly-murdered Suleau and Vigier. But 
his disconcerting indifference did not forsake him for an instant. 
'' How early the leaves are falling this year ! " was his only 
reflection on the events of the day. 

And afterwards, on the 21st January, was his attitude that 
of a coward ? The only two witnesses who were able to watch 
him closely on the scaffold — his confessor and his executioner — 
both testified that he died with heroic resignation. 

I do not think, then, that these few lines by Daujon need do 
any real injury to the memory of Louis XVI. Not that I doubt 
the truth of the story, but it is very probable that this man who, 
without being bad, was rough and rather uncivilised, may in his 
hatred for the tyrant have branded as cowardice a mere momentary 
weakness — excusable enough, one must admit, after so many 
weeks and months and years spent in agony and disillusionment. 
And if it is true that the King's habitual calmness forsook him, 
and his nerves for once obtained the upper hand, we can only 
assume that as a rule he controlled them, and that the insensi- 
bility usually attributed to his callous nature should really be 
ascribed to the unsuspected force of his character. One would 
certainly not have expected a conclusion so flattering to the 
King to be drawn from Daujon's narrative. Louis XVL's one 
exhibition of fear reminds us that the blood of Henri IV. flowed 
in his veins. On all the other occasions, no doubt, he was 
afraid, but afraid after the same fashion as his ancestor, who 
as he flung himself into the thick of the battle was wont to 
grind his teeth and say : " You are trembling, are you, you 
carcase .'' If you only knew where I was taking you ! " 

It is with the greatest repugnance that we approach another 
subject : the Dauphin's horrible words in connection with his 
mother, his sister, and his aunt. Here we are dealing with the 
greatest crime of the Revolution, and the most atrocious plot, 
surely, that was ever formed in a human brain. It was very 
probably Hubert, the infamous Tere Duchesne, who conceived 
the shameful idea of making the son give evidence against his 
mother — and in such terms ! (We refer those of our readers who 
wish to know what those terms were to M. Campardon's History 
of the Revolutiojiary Tribunal in Paris^ vol. I. page 129). 

50 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

We will make a contribution to this heartbreaking story in 
the form of another documentj a document even more terrible 
perhaps than the official minutes that were read aloud in court in 
the presence of the wretched and indignant mother. 

We know that on the 19th January^ 1794, Simon's functions 
as the Dauphin's tutor came to an end. An English agent, in 
regular correspondence with Lord Granville,^ wished to learn, 
from Simon himself, the exact condition of Louis XVL's son 
at the time. This agent twice succeeded in meeting the too 
notorious cobbler. The latter did not deny that he had left 
his post from sheer disgust ; he was horrified by what he had 
seen. The English spy reported these interviews to his Govern- 
ment in the following words : 

" Simon admits that the King (Louis XVIL) has been taught 
the habit of drinking strong liquors, and that he has no sort of 
education ; that Hebert and the soldiers with whom he is 
thrown teach him nothing but foul and blasphemous language. 
He declares that more than once he wished to counteract these 
lessons, and incurred very great danger on account of the child's 
indiscretions. Those who give me this information add that 
they do not believe a word of this. Simon ...... thinks 

that the measures taken at that time to make him (Louis XVIL) 
give evidence against his mother, and to prove by his condition 
that the evidence was true, were enough to injure him, body and 
soul. He has no hesitation in saying that there is something 
the matter with the boy and that nothing is being done to cure 
him. He is given nothing to amuse him but the most obscene 
books, and in fact, since the King's death, everything possible 
has been done to deprave him. He says that now and then the 
boy feels his position, and cries, and becomes desperate ; and 
then the commissioners divert him with brandy and billiards : 
and that several times Hebert has threatened him that he will 
have him guillotined, and that this terrifies him so horribly 
that he (Simon) has often seen the child faint away at the 
threat." ^ 

The threat was by no means an empty one ; for the frenzied 
brains of the politicians of the day were haunted by the idea of 

^ Probably Lord OrenviWQ. In some of the later notes the name is so 
spelt. — ( Translator. ) 

'^ Francis Drake to Lord Oranville. Schedule No. 2 (Feb. 12th, 1794). 
Historical Manuscripts Commission. The manuscripts of J. B. Fo7^tescue, 
Esq., preserved at Dropmore, vol, II., p. 529. 

51 E 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

sending this child of nine years old to the scaffold. Did not 
Billaut-Varenne say ? — " Let the allied powers understand plainly 
that the blade above the head of the tyrant's son is hanging by 
a single thready and that if they advance one step nearer he will 
be the first victim of the people. It is by vigorous measures of 
this kind that a new government gains self-confidence." ^ 

We must complete Daujon's narrative with two other docu- 
ments. We must follow the murderers as they carry Madame de 
Lamballe's remains away from the Temple^ and must learn the 
end of the repulsive incident. 

The Due de Penthievre, being warned of the dangers that 

threatened the Princesse de Lamballe, had charged M. de 

to keep his eye upon her, and "supposing any harm should 
happen to her to have her body followed wherever it was carried and 
have it buried in the nearest cemetery till it could be taken to 
Dreux." 

ThiSj it must be admitted, was a very strange precaution. So 
clear a premonition of the horrible scene that followed the 
princess's death would seem to show, not merely that the 
murderers acted with premeditation but even, incredible as it 
appears, that the Due de Penthievre had received notice of their 
intentions. 

Be that as it may, M. de ordered three devoted servants 

to disguise themselves so that they could not possibly be recog- 
nised, gave them a fairly large sum in small assignats, and 
enjoined upon them to spare nothing in their efforts to fulfil the 
duke's behests, if by any unhappy chance the princess could 
not be saved. Weber, in a note in his Memoirs, describes the 
strange peregrinations of these emissaries. 

" The Princess de Lamballe," he says, " had escaped on the 
2nd, and they were beginning to hope, when on the 3rd they 
were informed that the massacres were being renewed. 

Finally M. de was told that the villains had put an 

end to the life of the Queen's friend and seemed resolved 
to glut their infernal rage upon her still quivering remains. 

"It was then that these three faithful servants, over- 
coming the horror with which the cannibals inspired them, 
joined them in the hope of securing the unhappy woman's 

^ H. Wallou, Histoire du Tribunal Rdvolutionnaire de Paris, vol. I. 
p. 285. 

52 



THE NARKATIVE OF DAUJON 

body. The cannibals wished first to carry it to the Hotel de 
Toulouse.^ Someone warned the prince's retainers, who 
shuddered at the bare idea, but nevertheless, did not wish 
to oppose it. They opened all the entrances, and tremblingly 
awaited the horrible procession. They were already in the 
Rue de Clery when a man, touched by the horror that the 
prince's household must surely feel if this dreadful spectacle 
were thrust upon them, went up to Charlat, who was carrying 
the head, and asked him where he was going, 

" ' To make this kiss her fine furniture.'' 

" ' But you are making a mistake. This is not her house : 
she does not live here any longer, but at the Hotel de Louvois 
or the Tuileries.' 

" And it was quite true that the princess had some stables 
in the Rue de Richelieu, and some rooms in the palace, 
though this did not alter the fact that her real home was in 
the Hotel de Toulouse. But happily the brigands believed 
this good-hearted man, who thus saved the prince's faithful 
servants from a deeply painful experience. The horde of 
savages, then, did not stop at the hotel, but went to the 
Tuileries. They were not allowed to enter the palace, 
however. Then they returned to the corner of the Rue des 
Ballets, in the Faubourg Saint- Antoine,^ opposite the notary's 
house, and went into a tavern, where there seemed some hope 
of robbing them of the mutilated body ; but they seized it 
again and flung it on a heap of corpses near the Chatelet. 
The emissaries of M. le Due de Penthievre imagined that 
they could easily find it there again, and turned all their 
attention to securing the head. 

"It was still adorned by her beautiful hair, when the 
monsters came to a fresh decision : namely, to make the 
wretched woman look once more upon the scenes in which she 
would no longer move ^ — for in their horrible delirium they 

^ Where the Due de Penthievre usually lived. It is now the Bank of 
France, It seems evident that the murderers, before going to the Hotel de 
Toulouse, had gone to the Temple ; for, as we have seen, it was by Daujon's 
advice that they went back to the heart of the town. 

^ {Sic) Here we should read Rue Saint- Antoine. The end of the Rue 
des Ballets was opposite to La Force, where the Rue Malher is now. 

^ All these allusions enable us to form an idea of the route followed by 
those who were carrying Madame de Lamballe's remains. From La Force 

53 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

thought the senseless remains of their victim were still 
conscious of their outrages. At the very moment that the 
head passed under the door of La Force, a hairdresser 
sprang forward and, with the most astonishing dexterity, 
cut off the hair. 

" The emissaries of M. le Due de Penthievre were much 
distressed by this, for they knew the prince would have 
especially desired to keep the princess's hair; but they 
became only the more anxious to get possession of what was 
left, and after having reduced Charlafs mind to a state of 
complete confusion they persuaded him to leave the pike 
at the door of a tavern, into which two of them accompanied 
him. It is said that the man P.^ took advantage of that 
moment to drag the head from the iron that pierced it and 
to wrap it in a napkin with which he had provided himself 
on purpose. He summoned his comrades and went with 
them to the Popincourt section, where he declared that he 
had, wrapped in the napkin, a head that he wished to 
deposit in the cemetery of the Quinze-Vingts, and that he 
would come next day with two others of his comrades to take 
it away, and would give a hundred crowns in silver to the 
poor of the section. 

"They reported to M. de what they had done, 

and he advised them to go to the section very early the next 
morning, and made arrangements elsewhere for the recovery 
of the body. It was in a half-ruined house that the remains 
of the unhappy victims had been laid. M. de spared 

they proceeded first to the Temple by the Rue des Franc-Bourgeois, Rue 
du Chaume, and Rue de la Corderie. To reach the Hotel de Toulouse (Bank 
of France) they certainly followed the boulevards as far as the Porte Saint- 
Denis, since they went through the Rue de Cl^ry. Moreover, we know 
that at the Temple they expressed their intention of going to the Palais 
Royal ; they must therefore have approached the Tuileries by way of the 
Passage du Perron, the garden of the Palais Royal, and the Carrousel. 
The main artery of Paris, the streets of Saint-Honore, La Ferronnerie, La 
Verrerie and Le Roi de Sicile, led them to the Rue des Ballets opposite to 
La Force. Then, by the streets of Saint-Antoine, La Tixeranderie and La 
Coutellerie, they went to the Chatelet, in the intention, probably, of ridding 
themselves of the corpse by depositing it in the Morgue. But the Morgue 
was closed and they threw the body into a building-yard. Finally they 
returned with the head to La Force, where the Duo de Penthifevre's 
emissaries succeeded in wresting this last trophy from them. 
1 Pointel (Jacques), residing at No. 69, Rue des Petits-Champs. 

54 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

neither trouble nor money in his efforts to find those of 
Madame de Lamballe, but without success. In the meantime 

M. de 5 seeing that his emissaries had not returned, 

was beginning to suspect their good faith, for he had handed 
over to them all the money they asked for, when he was told 
that the three men had been arrested on the charge of 
murdering Madame de Lamballe. 

"M. de hastened to the section without delay and 

testified to the truth so persistently that the commissioners of 
the section not only set the prince''s servants at liberty, but 

authorised M. de to take away Madame de Lamballe's 

head. He went to the cemetery at Quinze-Vingts with a 
plumber, placed in a leaden box all of the precious remains 
that had been rescued, and despatched them to Dreux, where 
they were deposited in the same vault that was to receive the 
body of M. de Penthievre." 

One cannot fail to be touched by the unemotional terms of 
the official report drawn up at the section of the Quinze-Vingts_, 
in the very hour that the Due de Penthievre's envoys arrived 
with the desecrated remains of the Queen's friend. Whatever 
Weber may say, the prisoner's body was found, as the following 
document shows. 

The original of this document is preserved in the Carnavalet 
Museum, and is one of the various relics that were formerly in 
the Ledru-Rollin Collection. The text has already been 
published by M. Bertin. 



Extract from the Original Minutes of the Quinze- Vingts 
Section. 

" In the year 1792, the first of liberty and equality, on the 
3rd of September, there came before the Permanent Com- 
mittee of the Section of the Quinze-Vingts the Sieurs Jacques- 
Charles Hervelin, drummer of the gunners of the Section des 
Halles, formerly the battalion of Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie, 
residing at No. 3, Rue de la Savonnerie, opposite the little 
Rue d' Avignon, at the sign of the Cadran Bleu ; Jean-Gabriel 
Queruelle, cabinet-maker in the Rue du Faubourg Saint- 

55 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Antoine, at the corner of the Rue Saint-Nicolas, in Bouneau's 
house; Antoine Pouquet, gunner in the Montreuil Section, 
living at No. 25, Rue de Charonne, in the house of Sieur 
Vicq ; Pierre Ferric, stationer at No. 39, Rue Popincourt ; — 
bearers of the body of the ci-devant Princess Lamballe, who 
had just been killed in the Hotel de la Force and whose head 
had been carried by some other persons through the open 
streets at the end of a pike. They informed us that they had 
found the following articles in her garments : — A small book 
with gilt-edged pages, bound in red morocco and entitled 
The Imitation of Jesus Christ, a pocket-book of red morocco, 
a case containing eighteen national assignats of five livres 
each, a gold ring set with a moveable blue stone, beneath 
Avhich was some fair hair tied in a true-lover's knot, with 
these words abof^ it : It was blanched by sorrow ; a piece of the 
root called racine d'Angleterre, a little ivory penholder with 
a gold pen and two little circles of gold, a little knife with 
two blades and a tortoiseshell-and-silver handle ; a corkscrew 
of English steel, a little pair of pincers in English steel for 
pulling out hairs, a small sheet of ordinary cardboard with a 
picture bearing some indecipherable words, a list of linen and 
other garments on a piece of paper, two little glass bottles 
with gold tops, one containing ink and the other some wafers 
of various colours, and a sort of picture with a design on both 
sides of it, representing on one side a flaming heart wreathed 
with thorns and pierced with a dagger, with this legend 
below : Cor Jesu, salva nos, perimiis, and on the other a 
flaming heart pierced with a dagger, embroidered all round 
with blue silk — all of which we examined in the presence of 
the above-named and undersigned, to whom we returned all 
the articles as they desired, to be taken by them and delivered 
over to the National Assembly, in accordance with their 
promise and assurance ; in acknowledgment of which they 
gave us a receipt and signed their names together with us, 
commissioners and registrar, Caumont, Borie, Savard, com- 
missioners ; Renet, registrar. 

"And on the same day, at seven o'clock in the evening, 
Citizen Jacques Pointel, residing in the section of the 
Haymarket, No. 69, Rue des Petits-Champs, appeared before 

56 



THE NARRATIVE OF DAUJON 

the Committee of the Quinze-Vingts section, asking us to use 
our authority in the matter of burying the ci-devant Princesse 
de Lamballe's head, which he had just succeeded in securing. 
Since we could but applaud the patriotism and humanity of 
the said citizen, we, the undersigned commissioners, instantly 
proceeded to the Foundlings'" Cemetery, and there had the 
head buried, and drew up the present report of the said 
burial, in order to promote the truth and make sure of the 
facts at the time. 

" Delesquelle and Savard, commissioners ; Pointel, Renet, 
secretaries." 

Finally, without wishing to spread the rumour that Madame 
de Lamballe was the mistress of Philippe Egalite, Due d' Orleans, 
we will quote the following extract from the report of an English 
agent employed in Paris at the beginning of September, 1792. 
It is a finished picture of the absolute indifference with which 
people who prided themselves on being philosophers acquiesced 
in tragedies that did not affect their personal safety. 

" Madame de Lamballe was literally cut to pieces in 
the most cruel and the most indecent way. Her head and 

her heart were carried on pikes through the streets 

When this murder took place on Monday, Lindsay and some 
other. Englishmen were at the Palais Royal with the Due 
d'Orleans. While they were waiting for dinner they heard a 
large crowd making a great noise, and going to the window 
they saw Madame de Lamballe's head, which was being 
taken to the Temple,^ where it was shown to the Queen. 

" Overcome with horror at the sight, they drew back 
into the further end of the room, where the Due d'Orleans 
was sitting. He asked what was going on. They answered 
that the mob was carrying a head on the end of a pike. 
' Oh,' he said, ' is that all ? Well, let us go to dinner ! ' 

" While they were at dinner he asked if the women in 
the prisons had been massacred, and having received the 
answer that several of them had suffered this sad fate, 
he said : * Tell me, pray, what has become of Madame 

1 Or, no doubt, to be more exact, which they were bringing hack from the 
Temple and taking to the Tuileries. 

57 



LAST DAYS OF INIARIE ANTOINETTE 

de Lamballe.'' M. Walkiers, who was seated beside him, 
intimated, by a movement of his hand round his neck, 
that she had been killed. ' I understand you,' said the duke, 
and immediately began to speak of something else." ^ 

^ Letters from Mr. Burger to Lord Granville ; under date of September 
8, 1792. Historical Manuscripts Commission. The Manuscripts of J. B. 
Fortescue, Esq., preserved at Dropmore. (Vol. II.) 



58 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

A MANSERVANT EMPLOYED IN THE TEMPLE 

(10th August, 1792— 13th October, 1793) 

Louis FRAN901S Turgy was born in Paris on the 18th July, 
1763, and at the age of twenty-one entered the King's service. 
He filled a very modest post in the royal kitchens, and it was 
his devotion to his employers, and nothing else, that won him 
fame. 

We are about to read of the manner and circumstances in 
which he showed this devotion. From July to October, 1793, 
he was the sole remaining link that connected the prisoners of 
the Temple with the outer world. 

After leaving the Temple, Turgy joined his family at Tournan- 
en-Brie ; later on he accompanied Louis ^VI.'s daughter to 
Vienna ; in 1 799 he was at Mittau, at the Court of the exiled 
Louis XVIII., and it was there that he met Clery, who, at the 
instigation of the Princess of Hohenlohe, was putting together 
his recollections and writing an account of the imprisonment in 
the Temple. He begged Turgy to show him the letters of the 
Queen and Madame Elizabeth, but these precious documents 
had been left at Tournan, and Turgy's father destroyed them 
at the time of the Consulate, lest, if the relics were found, he 
should be suspected of royalist tendencies. It was those who 
had been readiest to stake their lives during the Terror who 
were seized in this way with a sort of reactionary fear when the 
danger was over. For many of them the nightmare did not 
begin till the day dawned. 

Turgy then, at the time of the Restoration, possessed nothing 
but his very accurate recollection of all that had occurred, and 
the contents of a few undated notes. It was with the help 
of these documents that his narrative was written. It was 

59 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

published in 1818, among the documentary authorities for the 
Histoire de Louis XVII. by Eckard, who undertook to revise it. 

As early as 1 799^ at Mittau, the Duchesse d' Angouleme had 
shown her gratitude to Turgy by prompting Louis XVIII. to 
write the following testimonial : 

"1 have the greatest satisfaction in stating that during the 
imprisonment of the late King my brother in the Temple, and 
after his death, as long as it was possible to serve the late King 
my nephew, the late Queen, his mother and my sister-in-law, 
the late Madame Elizabeth my sister, and Madame la Duchesse 
d' Angouleme my niece, the Sieur Turgy served them with un- 
failing courage, fidelity, zeal, and intelligence. And since I 
cannot at this moment reward him as I should wish, I desire 
at least that this testimonial should be for him a certificate 
of merit for ever, and for his children and descendants an 
incentive to effort, that they may in future years imitate the 
example he has given them : In witness whereof I have written 
and signed this testimonial with my own hand, and have had my 
seal affixed to it. At the Castle of Mittau this 1 7th December, 
1799- Signed: Louis." 

The King kept his promise. In 1814 Turgy was nominated 
an officer of the Legion of Honour and received a patent ot 
nobility. When he died in Paris, on the 4th June, 1823, he 
was first valet de chamhre and usher-of-the-closet to Her Royal 
Highness Madame la Duchesse d' Angouleme. 

On the 10th August, 1792, 1 found it impossible to obtain 
admission to the Tuileries. On the two following days my 
attempts to get into Les Feuillants were equally useless. The 
royal family ate nothing there but the food brought to them 
from various places by the people who had remained with 
their Majesties. Having heard that Louis XVI. was to be 
removed to the Temple, I hurried off to M. Menard de 
Chousy, Commissary-general of the King''s Household, to 
secure the favour of being employed there. He promised me 
that, wherever the royal family were lodged, if a single 
manservant of any kind were needed, he would name no one 
but myself for the post, because he knew that this would 
please the Queen. He at once despatched M. Rothe, 
Comptroller of the Buttery, to ask at the town hall for 
tickets of admission ; but he came back at five o''clock and 

60 





THE UNFORTUNATE LOUIS XVI. 

Jn the dress he woi'e while confined in the Temple. 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

said that the officials would only promise the tickets for the 
next day, the 14th. I foresaw that once the King were in the 
Temple it would be impossible to gain admission without an 
inquiry and various formalities that would frustrate my end : 
for, since I had never been concerned with anything but my 
duties, I had nothing to recommend me to the enemies of the 
royal family. Without speaking of it to anyone else, I said 
to my comrades, Chretien and Marchand : " Let us simply go 
to the Temple ; perhaps if we show a bold front they will let 
us in." They followed me. We arrived at the main entrance 
at the very moment when one of the officers of the guard was 
allowing a man to pass in. This man was supplied with 
a ticket, and I recognised him as being in the King's employ. 
I begged the officer to let me speak to this man, and told the 
latter that I and my companions also belonged to the House- 
hold. At first he hesitated ; then he answered : " Take my 
arm, and make your companions take yours, and I will get 
you in." Which he did. We were taken to the kitchen, 
where I found no supplies of any kind. Three times I was 
obliged to go out to procure what was necessary. I decided 
to go out by the door called the Porte du Baillage,^ and took 
the precaution of making the porter and the guards look at 
me well, so that I should be able to get in again. 

We laid the King's supper in the same room of the palace 
that H.S.H. Madame la Princesse Louise Adelaide de 
Bourbon-Conde has now made into her chapel.^ The royal 
family continued to have their meals in this room until the 
Great Tower became their only lodging.^ 

The royal family, after being confined for three days 

1 See page 29, Plan A, No, 63. 

^ That is to say in the large salon of the Temple, Plan A, No. 22. 

^ The Great Tower only became their lodgings on the 26th October ; and 
although it is quite certain that Turgy was well-informed, especially with 
regard to everything concerned with the domestic arrangements of the 
royal family, it seems astonishing that the prisoners should have been 
taken to eat their meals in the rooms of the Temple Palace. To reach 
them it was necessary to go out of Palloy's enclosure, and, as the passage 77 
had been cut short (see plan B), to cross the entire garden from end to end. 
That they did this is hard to accept. 

Madame de Tourzel, on the contrary, says they went down, at the hours 
of their meals, to a little room that was below that of the Queen and 
served as a dining-room. 

61 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

in the tiny cells of the Feuillants, would have thought them- 
selves comparatively fortunate if they had been left in 
the palace. But after supper the King was informed that, 
in order to ensure his safety and that of his family, they were 
to occupy the Tower during the night. The sentries who 
had been posted on every landing of the Tower were all 
Marseillais, who never ceased singing while the Queen was 
passing up to her rooms, as well as throughout the night : 

' ' Madame monte d, sa tour, 
Ne sait quand descendra." 

Two days after our arrival the commissioners of the 
Commune wished to know who had admitted us to the 
Temple. I answered that the Committees of the Assembly, 
after having enquiries made in our sections, had authorised us 
to take up our duties here : whereupon they retired. The 
next day Chabot, a deputy, Santerre, the Commandant- 
general, and Billaud-Varennes, at that time acting as 
procureur-general to the Commune, came to identify all the 
people who had remained with the royal family, and to make 
a list of their names. They asked us if we had been in the 
King's employ, and I answered in the affirmative. "But 
who can have let you come in here ? " cried Chabot. I told 
him that Petion and Manuel, after making enquiries in our 
section, had allowed us to come in. " In that case," said 
Chabot, " it must be because you are good citizens. Remain 
at your posts, and the nation will take better care of you 
than the tyrant ever did."" 

When we were alone my comrades, who were much 
alarmed, said to me : " Do you want to be the death of 
us all "^ You tell the town councillors that we were sent here 
by the Assembly, and you tell the deputies that we were sent 
by the Commune : we wish we were well out of it ! " 
Nevertheless, they remained in the Temple and were faithful 
to their duty, leaving the place only when I left it myself, as 
I shall presently relate. 

As soon as the King was removed to the Temple the most 
minute precautions were prescribed. This was the routine in 
my own special department. Before dinner or any other 

62 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

meal someone went to the Council Room to summon two of 
the municipal officers. They came to the serving-room, 
where the dishes were prepared and tasted before them, so 
that they might see there was nothing concealed in them, nor 
anything suspicious about them. In their presence the 
decanters and coffee-pots were filled. The covers for the 
decanters of almond-milk were torn, according to their 
directions, by any person and from any piece of paper they 
chose. 

Then we all proceeded to the dining-room, but we did not 
lay the table till we had shown it, above and below, to the 
officers ; we unfolded the tablecloths and napkins before 
them ; they tore the rolls in halves and probed the crumb 
with forks, or even with their fingers. 

Nevertheless, I was often able, in a passage or the corner of 
a staircase,^ to replace the paper stopper of a decanter by 
another, upon which some warning or news had been written, 
either with lemon-juice or with extract of gall-nut. Some- 
times I rolled a note round a little pellet of lead, covered it 
with another piece of stronger paper, and threw it into 
the decanter of almond-milk. I indicated what I had done 
by a sign upon which we had agreed. When the paper 
stoppers had no writing already upon them they were used 
by the Queen and Madame Elizabeth for giving me orders 
or information to transmit to someone else. 

Some of the means we employed for communicating with 
each other are described in M. Hue's book and in Clery's 
journal : but as it was necessary for these means to be varied, 
they demanded the greatest caution, and often involved 
delays in transmitting news to the royal family. To obviate 
all these inconveniences the Queen and Madame Elizabeth 
devised a way of corresponding directly with me by signs. 

^ The kitchens and offices of the Temple were a long way from the 
Tower (see Plan A). We shall see, in Moelle's narrative, how the dishes 
for the prisoners' table were carried through the Grand Prior's Palace and 
the immense garden of the Temple — the whole length of the existing 
square. There was nothing unusual, moreover, about this journey ; at 
the Tuileries till 1830, the King's meals were carried in this way through 
the vi^hole series of rooms. Even at Versailles the strange procession was 
daily to be met with in the courts of the palace, escorted by an armed 
guard. 

63 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

The following is a list of the signals suggested to me one 
by one by the princesses, in connection with the events of 
September, 1792, with a view to their being kept informed 
both of the progress of the foreign armies and of the 
transactions of the Convention, in spite of the increased 
vigilance of the municipal officers. They are in Madame 
Elizabeth's handwriting. 

For the English : place the right thumb upon the right eye ; 
if tliey are landing near Nantes^ place it on the right ear ; 
if near Calais, on the left ear. 

If the Austrians are successful on the Belgian frontier, 
place the second finger of the right hand on the right eye. If 
they are entering the country hy way of Lille or from the 
Mayence direction, use the third fnger as above. 

For the troops of the King of Sardinia, use the fourth 
fnger in the same way. 

N.B. — Be carefid to keep the fnger stationary for a longer or 
shorter time according to the importance of the battle. 

When they are within fifteen leagues of Paris follow the 
same order for the fingers but be careful to place them on the 
mouth. 

If the Powers should be concerning them.selves with the 
royal family, touch the hair with the fingers of the right hand. 

If the Convention should pay any attention to them, use the 
left hand ; but shoidd that body go on to the order of the day, 
use the right. 

If the Convention shoidd withdraw, pass the whole hand 
over the head. 

Should the troops advance and be successfid, touch the nose 
with one finger of the right hand, and use the whole hand 
when they are within fifteen leagues of Paris 

The left side is only to be used to indicate the successes 
of the Convention. 

In answering any question the right hand is to be u^ed and 
not the left. 

These signals, as is evident, as well as the questions i& 
various notes, refer to the hopes and fears of the princesse<f 
or to information, true or false, received by them. 

64 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

The written correspondence went more fully into the 
subjects that I could only vaguely indicate by signals. For 
in spite of the vigilance of eight or ten persons hardly 
a day passed during the fourteen months that I was in 
the Temple, without my delivering some notes or other 
to the royal family, either by means of the devices already 
mentioned, or while I was giving them the objects connected 
with my duties, or receiving them from their hands. Or 
else I would put the note in a ball of thread or cotton, 
and hide it in a corner of a cupboard, or under the marble 
table, or in the hot-air holes of the stove, or even in the 
basket that the sweepings were carried away in. A movement 
of my hand or eyes indicated the spot where I had succeeded 
in hiding the ball. In this way the King and the princesses 
were nearly always kept informed of the progress of events. 

The facilities that I had for going out two or three times a 
week to fetch provisions enabled me to be the bearer of any 
instructions that the King or Queen wished to send to 
anyone, and to bring back any notes or news that were 
given to me for their Majesties. I also kept the frequent 
trysts that M. Hue made with me, sometimes in the most 
lonely parts of Paris and sometimes out of town, when 
he would give me letters for the King or answers to his 
Majesty's orders. Neither persecutions nor imprisonment 
nor, in a word, any fear for his own safety, ever affected his 
devoted courage. 

It was Madame la Marquise (now Duchesse) de Serent 
with whom the Queen and Madame Elizabeth most often 
corresponded. Her household supposed me to be her man 
of business, and had orders to let me in at any hour of the 
day or night. Everyone has heard of the fine spirit and 
noble devotion shown by this lady throughout the trials 
of the royal family, on a great many occasions that were 
full of danger to herself. Who is there that has given 
greater proof than Madame la Duchesse de Serent that 
loyalty to the King, to a soul of true nobility, is a real 
religion ? Her historic name is prominent in many literary 
works. 

It was only rarely that I was searched on entering or 

65 F 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

leaving the Temple, because I was very careful to supply the 
warders with everything they asked for when they visited the 
kitchens. This made them more amenable. But as soon as 
I approached the Tower or any room occupied by one of 
the royal family all my movements were observed. I was 
forbidden to speak to any person whatever, except in a loud 
voice, when it was necessary in the exercise of my duties. 
I was even, on account of my relations with the outer world, 
the object of particular vigilance. And the royal family 
themselves, to avoid drawing suspicion upon me, were cautious 
to such a degree that on one occasion the King, having given 
me a knife with a broken handle that I might have it 
mended, and remembering that he had not shown it to 
the municipal officers, asked me to return it to him at 
once, and gave it to them, saying : " You see, gentlemen, 
there is nothing inside." Then the King returned the 
knife to me, impressing upon me not to have a new handle 
put to it, for, he added : " I value it very much as it is, 
because it was given to me by my father." 

I was above all charged to discover the fate of those 
whose zeal and fidelity had been proved by the royal family. 
The greater number of them had been forced to leave 
France in the service of their noble cause, and the laws 
against the emigres, which became more and more severe, 
were consequently a matter of special interest to the 
princesses, as we may see by this note from Madame Elizabeth 
written about the end of October. 

"J note for Madame de S. {Seretit). When the laws 
against the emigres are quite completed, let us know, and go 
on giving us news on the subject.'''' 

I have not yet mentioned Toulan. His behaviour and 
violent way of speaking during the first days he was in the 
Temple made us dread the return of his period of service. 

However, the sight of the misfortunes of Louis XVI., and 
the princesses, and the royal children, combined with their 
generosity and gentleness, had from the very first made an 
unexpected impression upon the ardent, sensitive heart of 
this young man, an impression of such strength that he 

m 



THE NARKATIVE OF TURGY 

resolved to employ every means to alleviate the fate of the 
royal family. I do not know how he contrived to inform the 
princesses of his fortunate conversion ; but it was thought he 
could serve them best by doing nothing to alter the other 
commissioners' opinion of him, and by keeping up his revolu- 
tionary tone and behaviour towards the King and his family. 
Having been assured by Madame Elizabeth that I might 
be perfectly open in my dealings with Toulan, I had several 
meetings with him in different places, where we talked over 
the various commissions that the princesses confided to him. 
He fulfilled them with so much zeal and ability that at the 
end of November Madame Elizabeth informed me, in the 
note that I give below, of the distinguishing name by which 
the royal family would in future allude to him. 

" Yoti will give this (note) to Toulan^ whom in future we 
shall call Fidele. If you cannot deliver it at dinner-time, go 
to-morrow, so as to be able to give him an answer to what we 
shoidd receive from him to-day. Tell us the bad news as well 
as the good, when there is any.''"' 

But while those who were the enemies of the royal family 
only because they had not known them were moved to pity 
by their misfortunes, the prisoners were subjected to the 
most atrocious treatment by others : others who had had the 
honour of seeing them when they were in the height of their 
prosperity, or who, perhaps, owed everything to them. One 
day the Queen said to me : " Turg}--, I have broken my comb : 
please buy me another " ; whereupon the poet D C ,i 

^ Dorat-Palemezeaux, Chevalier de Cubi^res, born at Roquemaure on the 
27th September, 1752. 

This personage, who was despised by all alike, both by the terrorists he 
flattered and by the royalists whom every day he doomed to the scaffold in 
verses that were as dull as they were sangiiinary, composed a number of 
revolutionary poems. He wrote odes in honour of Carrier, Robespierre, 
and Marat. Everyone knows how Chaumette answered him when he 
wished to dedicate a volume of verses to Madame Chaumette : " My wife," 
said the procureur of the Commune, " is a woman of letters ; her works 
are in my chest of drawers." Opening a drawer, he showed the poet a 
pile of old stockings which the Citoyenne Chaumette had mended and 
marked with his initials. 

Cubi^res was a member of the insurrectionary Commune of the 10th 
August. On this subject Prud'homme relates that in order to be made a 
member of the electoral body on that occasion he declared that his mother 

67 F 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

who was a municipal officer, cried : " Buy one of horn : wood 
is too good for her." The Queen went on giving me her 
orders, as if she had not heard the insult. I replaced the 
comb, which was of tortoiseshell, by a similar one. When 
she saw it the Queen said : " So you have disregarded the 

orders of D C , for he declared that wood would 

be too good for us ; he who, but for the kindness of the 

King " Her Majesty paused. I ventured to say : 

" Madame, there were many who seemed to be paying court 
to the royal family, but it was only because of the Treasury."" 
The Queen was good enough to say to me : " You are quite 
right, Turgy." 

On the 2nd December the municipal body of the 10th of 
August was replaced by the body known as the provisional 
municipality. They doubled the number of commissioners 
guarding the King and the royal family : and the following 
incident showed us the kind of men we had to deal with. 
The Queen, having been ill all the next day, had taken no 
food, and told me to bring her some broth for supper. As I 
was actually handing it to her she learnt that the woman 
Tison was unwell, whereupon she ordered the broth to be 
taken to her. This was done. I then begged one of the 
commissioners to go with me to the kitchens to fetch another 

had committed a crime in making him noble when his father was not so. 
Being on a visit of' inspection at the Temple, and noticing the particularity 
with which Louis XVI. fasted in the Ember Days and read his prayers, he 
reported it to the Commune, arguing that the King, being pious, must 
necessarily be a monster, since Louis XL and Philip II. of Spain had been 
both pious and tyrannical. He had taken the name of Dorat from vanity, 
thinking in this way to create some confusion between his heavy verses 
and the charming work of the poet of the Baisers. We know what 
Madame Roland thought of the Chevalier de Cubiferes : " Faithful to his 
two characteristics of insolence and cowardice, which were plainly written 
for all to see upon his repulsive face, he preached sans-culottism as he had 
once done honour to the graces, and composed verses to Marat as formerly 
to Iris. As he had been amorous without tenderness, so he was blood- 
thirsty without passion ; he knelt humbly before the idol of the day, 
whether it were Tantalus or Venus, for it mattered little to him provided 
he could rant, and earn enough to eat. ... A shallow courtier, an insipid 
flatterer, at once idiotically conceited and servilely polite, he was more 
surprising to people of sense and more unpleasing to people of judgment 
than any being that has ever been seen." By way of a finishing touch to 
this portrait we will add that Dorat-Cubi^res rewrote the PhMre of Racine, 
and tried to make the world believe that one of his works was a newly 
discovered tragedy by Coi-neille ! 

68 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

bowl of broth. Not one of them would accompany me, and 
her Majesty was obliged to do without the broth. 

Toulan, who had been elected to sit in this new town- 
council, constantly gave me information with regard to the 
character and sentiments of his colleagues ; which information 
was very useful to me in my dealings with them. 

It was M. Parisot who gave me the decree prescribing that 
the King should be brought to the bar of the Convention 
to answer certain questions. I placed it under Clery's bed, 
and his Majesty read it at once. That zealous royalist, 
Parisot, often gave me writings and notes of very great 
importance ; while Toulan, for his part, supplied the princesses 
with reliable information as to all that was being hatched in 
the Jacobin Club and the Committees of the Convention. 
He contrived, too, to be often on duty during this terrible 
time. His devotion and the eager marks of sympathy shown 
by several of the commissioners, whose names, I regret to say, 
I have forgotten, gave some consolation and even some hope 
to the Queen and the royal family. 

Clery has told how we devised a means of correspondence 
between the King and the princesses, from the moment that 
all communication between them was forbidden. While he, 
Clery, was a witness of the sorrows and sublime courage of 
Louis XVI. it was my part to watch the fears, the gleams of 
hope, and the anguish of the Queen, M. le Dauphin, and the 
princesses. 

The accursed 21st of January dawned. Ac about ten 
o'clock in the morning the Queen tried to persuade her 
children to take some food, but they refused. Soon we heard 
the report of firearms. Madame Elizabeth, raising her eyes 
to heaven, cried : " The monsters now they are con- 
tent ! " The Queen was speechless with grief ; the young 
prince burst into tears ; Madame Royale shrieked aloud. 
Picture the scene ! And all the time the drums were rolling 
and the maniacs who guarded the Temple were shouting their 
applause. 

Clery remained in the Temple for more than a month 
longer, but was unable to communicate with us. When I 
saw him after his release I received from his hands, with 

69 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

feelings of sorrow and veneration beyond all words, the 
following note, Avhich the King in his infinite kindness had 
left for me. 

Note from Louis XVI. to Cleey. 

2l5^ January^ 1793, a quarter to 8 in the morning. 
" / charge you to tell Turgy how greatly I have been pleased 
with his faithful attachment to me, arid with his zeal in fulfilling 
his duties. I give him my blessing, and beg him to continue 
caring, with equal devotion, for my family, to whom I commend 
him.'''' 

The fury of the regicides being assuaged for the moment, the 
municipal officers who had so greatly tormented Louis XVI. 
and his family came more rarely to the Temple. The 
princesses were watched less closely, and were able to talk 
to each other and give me their orders. V^'^hen Toulan, 
Michonis, and one or two others were on duty, the royal 
prisoners enjoyed a semblance of liberty. 

The only note of this period that I still possess is from 
Madame Elizabeth. 

" TlianJc Hue for us. Find out from him zvhetlier he took 
the hair himself, or bought it ,-^ arid xohether he coidd not, 
through some private sotirce of hformation, find out what the 
Committee qf General Security means to do with us.'''' 

It was during this period that Toulan conceived the rash 
idea of helping Louis XVII. and the royal family to escape 
from the Temple. According to my notes, the plan was to 
be executed as follows. I was to carry away the young King 
in a basket covered with napkins : the Queen, disguised as a 
municipal officer, was to come to the door on the staircase to 
ensure my being allowed to pass : her Majesty was to go out 
a few moments afterwards : Madame Royale, dressed like 
the lamplighter's son, and accompanied by M. Ricard ^ dis- 

^ The hair of Louis XVI. no doubt. 

2 At that time Inspector of National Property, and a zealous royalist. 
At the restoration he was appointed to a post in the office of the Royal 
Lottery. It was Ricard who wrote the notes that Turgy and Toulan 
delivered to the prisoners. His thin, neat handwriting, Turgy said, was 
of the greatest use. 

70 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

guised as the lamplighter, and carrying his box, was to pass 
out at the same time as Madame Elizabeth, who was to go 
before them dressed, like the Queen, as a commissioner. I 
know nothing more of the measures that were to be adopted 
in the escape from the Tower. I believe it was owing only 
to the hesitation of the municipal officers (I am not speaking 
of the intrepid Toulan) that the plan was never executed. 

When the royal family were not too closely watched by 
their warders, the princesses liked to remind each other of 
various services that had been rendered to them by the loyal 
during the horrible scenes of the Revolution. The Queen 
condescended one day to recall the first occasion on which I 
was fortunate enough to be observed by herself and the King, 
on the unhappy morning of the 6th October. She repeated 
several times, in the presence of Louis XVII. and Madame 
Royale, that I had saved her life that day by opening for her 
the secret door between her private apartments and the room 
called the (Eil de Boeuf^ through which she ran to take refuge 
with the King, shutting the door in the face of the murderers 
who were pursuing her.^ The most remarkable fact on these 
occasions was that the Queen never spoke of those who had 
given her such cruel cause for complaint, and while she 
enjoined upon her august children to remember good actions, 
she set them an example in the forgetting of injuries. 

Towards the end of March the unfavourable reports that 
reached the General Council with regard to Toulan and 
several of his colleagues made the commissioners on duty 
more suspicious than before. We were obliged to resort to 
notes once more. Madame Elizabeth wrote : — 

" M!'s words gave us much 'pleasure. (Monsieur, the King's 
brother, had declared himself Regent of the kingdom.) 

^ There were, in the palace of Versailles, two ways of communicating 
between the King's rooms and those of the Queen : one was a secret way, 
a narrow and winding passage, built at the same height as an entresol, 
which traversed the whole ground floor of the palace ; the other was public, 
and in a certain sense ofBcial, and consisted of three little rooms, over- 
looking a back yard, and dividing the Queen's large room from the (Eil de 
Bceuf. This whole labyrinth of little rooms and secret staircases and 
hidden doors is still existing, though closed to the public, and there on the 
actual spot one may recall the events of the night between the 5th and 6th 
October, which are described with so much confusion and inconsistency by 
those who saw them. 

71 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

^^ As it is most important that our secret should be known by 
no one, do not speak of our method of correspondance. 

" Give this (a note) to the person at whose house you were 
on Saturday, and with it give something to make the writing 
visible. Above all do not answer me till Tuesday, so as not to 
have more letters to deliver than necessary. Did they seem 
anxious to find out who gave us nezes, and do you think they 
spoke of it to the General Council 9 I have found the book^ 
(This was a Holy Week that Madame Elizabeth had asked 
me for.) 

Various accusations, notably those brought by Tison and 
his wife against the Queen, the princesses, and many others, 
were the reason that Toulan's name and those of some other 
municipal officers were erased from the list of those appointed 
to serve in the Temple. The men who replaced them received 
such stringent orders, and were, moreover, so devoted to the 
enemies of the royal family, that correspondence again became 
extremely difficult. In the meantime the progress of events, 
not only in France but also beyond the frontier, was greatly 
disturbing the princesses. They were obliged to resort to 
signals again. Madame Elizabeth gave me the following 
code, partly at the end of April and partly in May. 

" In the case of a truce., pull up your collar. If roe are 
being demajided at the frontier, put your right hand in your 
coat-pocket. If Paris is being provisioned, lay your Jmnd on 
your chin. 

" Touch your forehead if General Lamarliere is gone. If 
the Spaniards are trying to join the troops from Nantes, rub 
your eyebrows. If it is thought Ithely that we shall still be 
here in the month of August, blow your nose without turning 
round. 

" After supper go to Fidele (Toulan) aoid ask him fhe has 
any nezvs of Produse (the Prince de Conde) ,• f he has good 
news, put the napkin under your right arm ; f lie has none, 
put it under the Ift. Tell him that we fear the information 
given against him must have caused him some annoyance. 
Beg him, as soon as he lias news of Produse, to tell you ; and 

72 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

hand the information on to us hy means of the signs we 
agreed upon. 

" Could you not, tf anything fresh were to arise, tell it to us 
hy writing with lemon juice on the paper stopper of ike bottle 
that holds the cream, or else wrap it up in a pellet and throw it 
to my sister one day when you are alone with her ? 

" Take possession of the paper stoppers in the bottles whenever 
I blow my nose as I come out of my room : and if you have 
got them lean hack against the wall as I pass, lowering your 
napkin at the same time. If what I ask should he dangerous 
for you, let me know by passing your napkin Ji'om one hand to 
the other. 

" If they think we shall still be here in the month of August 
hold the napkin in your hand. We liope the people will not 
worry you any 7nore. Do not be afraid to use your left hand ; 
we prefer to know everything. 

" If the Swiss declare war, tlie signal is to he one Jinger 
under the chin. If the troops from Nantes reach Orleans, use 
two fingers xvhen they are there.'''' 

During the month of June the woman Tison gave signs of 
mental derangement. She was always sad, and sighed like a 
person suffering from remorse. Her husband, who was a 
brutal man, for some reason obliged her to bring fresh 
charges against the Queen and Madame Elizabeth, and she 
accused them of carrying on a daily correspondence with me. 
To prove her statements she carried down to the Council 
Room a candlestick that she had taken from Madame 
Elizabeth's room, and showed the commissioners a drop of 
sealing wax that had fallen on the socket. It was quite true 
that on that very morning the princess had given me a sealed 
note for the Abbe Edgeworth de Firmont, and I had lost no 
time in taking it to Madame la Duchesse de Serent. Her 
Royal Highness sealed no notes but those for this venerable 
divine, who was her confessor.^ 

On returning from the Council the woman Tison entered 
the princesses'* room. At the sight of the Queen she became 

^ See the M4moires of the Abbe E. de Firmont, 3rd edition,' pages 
121-127. 

73 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

greatly agitated, and flinging herself at her Majesty's feet, 
under the very eyes of the commissioners, whose presence she 
entirely disregarded, she cried : " Madame, I entreat your 
Majesty to forgive me"" — (those were the words she used). 
" I am a miserable woman ; I am responsible for your death 
and for Madame Elizabeth's."" The princesses kindly raised 
her from the ground and tried to calm her. 

A moment later I and my two fellow-servants, Chretien and 
Marchand, brought in the dinner for the royal family, accom- 
panied by the four commissioners on duty. The woman Tison 
threw herself on her knees before me, saying : " M. Turgy, 
I ask your forgiveness. I am a miserable woman. I have 
been the cause of the Queen"'s death and of yours."*"* 

Madame Elizabeth quickly raised her, and said : " Turgy, 
forgive her."" I had the honour of telling her Royal 
Highness " that the woman Tison had done nothing to offend 
me ; but even if she had I would forgive her with all 
my heart."*"* The woman then fell into fearful convulsions ; 
she was carried into a room in the Palace, and it took eight 
men to hold her. Two days later she was removed to the 
Hotel-Dieu, and she appeared no more at the Temple.^ 

M. Follope, the municipal officer to whom the woman 
Tison had made her statement, had told me of everything 
that she had laid before the Council, and had advised me not 
to be with the princesses so much, so as not to confirm the 
suspicions of the other commissioners and warders. In the 
evening he fortunately succeeded in persuading his colleagues 
that Madame Tison's accusation and the scene that had just 
taken place were both the effect of the unhappy woman"'s 
madness. He threw her deposition into the fire. 

That was certainly one of the days when I was most afraid 

1 This tragic scene must have taken place on the 6th July, for under 
date of the 8th, two days later, we find recorded in the registers of the 
Hotel-Dieu the admittance of "Anne Victoire Baudet, wife of Tison, 
born in Paris in the Parish of St. Etienne-du-Mont." She left the 
hospital on the 6th Ventose, year III. (24th February, 1795), and was still 
alive at the end of the year VI. Her husband, Pierre Joseph Tison, born at 
Valenciennes in 1734, remained at the Temple after the Queen's death. 
He was still there in July, 1795, and was kept there almost like a prisoner. 
He left only on the death of the " child of the Temple." His own death 
is recorded as taking place on the 3rd Nivose, year VI. {23rd December, 
1797), at No. 36, Rue de Limoges, Paris. 

74 



THEi NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

of being arrested : afraid, not on ray own account, for I was 
resigned, but because my arrest would have deprived the 
royal family of every means of correspondence, and of their 
only solace in the weariness and torture of their horrible 
imprisonment. On several occasions the commissioners had 
detected the signals and glances that were exchanged between 
the princesses and myself, and had tried to guess their 
meaning, making desperate efforts to find out to what they 
referred. This caused us the most painful anxiety, but their 
attempts were always in vain. One day Tison made off with 
the paper stopper of a bottle ; examined it carefully ; held it 
up to the light ; then, finding nothing on it, put it in his 
pocket. The princesses grew pale from fear : their anxiety 
may be imagined ! But either because Tison lost the paper, 
or because he did not know how to make the writing visible, 
this was a false alarm. Strange to say, not one of our notes 
was ever discovered ! Every day I thank Heaven for it. 

The warning of the worthy M. Follope^ made us more 
cautious than ever. It was not till two days later that the 
Queen, when returning her napkin to me, succeeded in 
slipping into my hand a paper on which her Majesty had 
written these questions : 

" What are they shouting under our windoios ? (Here there 
are some words that have become illegible.) Perhaps my 
sister will askjhr some almond milk. Has the Commune been 
reconstituted ? Is the ivoman Tison as mad as they say f Do 
they mean to replace her here ? Is she zoell cared for? 

Who could read these last words without being touched "^ 
It was at this time that I informed the Queen of my inten- 
tion of begging the General Council of the Commune to allow 
me to be shut up in the Tower, so that I might devote myself 
entirely to the personal service of the princesses and spare 
them many very irksome cares. Her Majesty answered : 

" What you suggest would give us great pleasure ; but it is 
through you that all our information comes, and if you were 
shut up, we should in future be entirely in the dark. If 

^ He was indicted in the same bill as Madame Elizabeth, and died with 
her on the 9th May, VIM.— {Note ly Turgy.) 

75 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

anyone should come ix) take us away, and you are unable to 
accompany us, come and join us wherever we may be, with 
your wife, your son, and your whole family." 

The circumstances connected with Madame Tison"'s insanity 
had greatly impressed her husband. The kindness shown by 
the Queen and the princesses to this woman who had given 
them so many reasons for complaint, touched the gaoler to 
such a degree that he told me he repented of his conduct in 
the past, and desired to give some proof of his sorrow. This 
he did on the first opportunity. 

When the young King came to the dinner-table he was given 
a higher seat than the others, a seat with a cushion on it. One 
day, this seat being occupied by a commissioner called Bernard, 
who had been a priest at the Hospice de la Pitie, the little 
King was seated on an ordinary chair. He was so low that 
he could hardly reach the food on his plate ; but no one dared 
to disturb Bernard, who was noted for his boorishness. Tison 
came into the room ; I made a sign to him ; he understood it. 
Bringing forward another chair, he asked the commissioner to 
give the child the seat he generally used. Bernard roughly 
refused, saying, in the hearing of the Queen and the princesses, 
" I never saw a table or chair given to prisoners ; straw is 
good enough for them."" ^ 

Tison offered to give me information and to provide me 
with newspapers. I told Madame Elizabeth of all this, and 
she soon answered as follows : 

" Be very cautious in regard to Tisoii's suggestion, and do 
not' let your zeal lead you into any course that might he 
dangerous to you ; and if you agree, let it he only after making 
him promise the most ahsohde secrecy. Have you not heen 
forbidden to speak to Tison ? Think over that, too. Try to 
fnd Old t&hether the movements of the enemy are to he directed 
against my companion (the Queen) ; and if they are not going 
to remove her property to some greater distance than two 
leagues. (There was some question of taking Louis XVII. 
and Madame Royale to the Chateau of Choisy-le-Roi.) This 

^ Bernard was proscribed as an accomplice of Robespierre, and executed 
on the 29th July, 1794 (11th Thermidor, year II.).— {Note hy Turgy.) 

76 



THE ISIARRATIVE OF TURGY 

question is not urgent. It was Toulan who gave us the news- 
paper of which I spoke yesterday/. The way you serve us is 
our one conifort. Ask Madame S. (Serent) for an answer 
about Miranda.'''' 

I will give several other letters written by Madame 
Elizabeth between the early days of July and the end of 
September. 

" Yesterday we saw a newspaper that spoke of Saumur and 
Angers as though the R. (Republic) were still in possession of 
them : what does that mean ? Is Marat really dead ? Is 
there much excitement about it ? 

" Give Fidele this note from us. Tell him — and my sister 
wishes you to know — that we see the child (Louis XVII.) every 
day from the staircase window : but that need not prevent you 
from giving us news of him. 

" Why do they beg'mi beating the drums at six o''clock in the 
morning? Answer this. If you can, without compromising 
Madame Serent and yourself, write to her for me, aoid say I 
beg her not to stay in Paris on my account. The resolution 
passed by the Cordeliers against the nobles makes me miserable 
on her account. If anything happens at the Federation 
Festival, do not forget to tell me about it.'''' 

" Here is a note for Fidele. Where is that gentleman's 
command ? When you mention a fresh name to me tell me 
where the person lives, for I do not know any of those gentle- 
men. I have nothing left now but the gall-nut, so they can 
search if they like. I have gradually got rid of all you have 
given me. I asked you if you had taken the same precautions ; 
if not, do so ; I insist upon it : it is necessary for the safety of 
that person (the Queen) and for yours^ 

" Is there any truth 'm the story of all the victories they 
have been crying in tlie streets during the last three days ? " 

" Tell Fidele how much his last note touched us. We did 
not need his assurance to make us trust him completely and for 
ever. His signals are good. (He had taken a room in a house 
near the Temple where he played on a horn various airs that 

77 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

conveyed the ideas to be signalled.) We will simply say : Aux 
armes, citoi/ens, in the case of there being any idea qf reuniting 
us, hut we much fear there is no need to p7xpare for that 
contingency.'''' 

" If you wish me to ask for some almond milk, hold your 
napkin low down as I pass. What has become of the English 
Fleet ? (several illegible words) and of my Brothers 9 Have 
we a fleet in any sea ? What do you mean when you say that 
all is going well ? Do you mean that there is hope of the end 
coming" soon, of a change of popidar feeling, or that evoij- 
thing is going smoothly 9 Have there been any executions of 
people tvho are well known in our sense of the word ? How 
are Madame S. (Serent) and my abbe (M. Edgeworth) ? Has 
he by any chalice heard anything of Madame de Bombelles, 
who is near Saint-Gall, in Switzerland ? What has happened 
to the people at Saint-Cyr f Tell me 'if you have been able to 
read all this, and cover the bottle with paper that will be useful 
to us. As to Fidele, ask him if Michonis sees my sister aiid if 
there is no one but Michonis to guard her.'''' 

" What you tell me about the person (the Queen) gives me 
much pleasure. Is it the gendarme or the zvoman who sleeps in 
her room ? Woidd it be possible to hear from the womari that 
Constant (M. Hue) saw anythmg besides neivs of what she 
loves ? If you cannot be useful to her here, go to some safe place 
where you will not be obliged to serve ; ^ but tell me where, in 
case toe have need of you. As regards myself I do oiot believe 
I shall be exiled ; but if I am, come and join me, unless you are 
necessary to the person (the Queen), / cannot believe yet that 
you are going. Try to let me know what is decided ; and if 
you shoidd remain, and the woman Tison should come, could 
you throw a piece of paper into tJie basket or else put it into a 
piece of bread 9 Tell me if it is through Madame S. (Serent) 
that you have nezvs qf a Being (the Abbe Edgeworth) zoho, 
like me, knows hozo to appreciate those who arefaithfid. It is 
with much regret that I find I am to be robbed of the last person 
of thai kind yet left to me.'''' 

^ This referred to the requisitions of troops. 

78 



THE NARRATIVE OF TURGY 

"/* your fate decided? Answer this question. If it shotdd 
be necessary for us to have your note without delay, lean 
against the wall and lower your iiapkin. Tison sometimes 
prevents us from taking it at once, but we watch him : so be 
easy. Only do this when you have some urgent information to 
give us. Who is the municipal officer whom they suspect of 
corresponding with us ; and is he suspected of writing, or only 
of giving us news ? Who suggested it ? Are you not sus- 
pected at all ? Be vei-y carefid.'''' 

In the course of September, Hebert and the commissioners on 
duty in the Temple came to Madame Elizabeth's rooms and 
notified to the princesses that since the principle of equality 
ought to prevail everywhere, in prisons as elsewhere, they 
would have no one to wait on them in future. Soon afterwards 
the Council drew up an order by which the royal prisoners 
were limited to one kind of food at each meal. 

I told Madame Elizabeth of this, and also of the threats to 
send her away, which were repeated every day. Her Royal 
Highness answered : 

" ll^A October, 1793, at a quarter past two. 

" / am deeply grieved. Preserve your life for the time when 
we shall be more fortunate, and able to reward you ; and take 
away with you the comfort of having given faithful service to 
your good but unhappy master and mistress. Impress upon 
Fidele not to endanger his safety too much by our signals (on 
the horn). If by any chance you should see Madame Malle- 
main, give her news of me, and tell her I am thinking of her. 
Farewell, good man andjaitffid subject.'''' 

" 19,th October, 1793, at two o'clock. 
" My little girl {Madame Roy ale) declares you made me a 
sign yesterday morning ; relieve my anxiety, if 'it is still pos- 
sible. I coidd notftid anything, and if you put it tender the 
bucket it may have been washed away with the water, and will 
certainly never be found. If there is anything fresh for us, let 
me know fyou are still able to do so. Have you been able to 
read the second little paper, in which I spoke to you of Madame 

79 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Mallemain, one of my women 9 This (a note) is for Fidele. 
Tell him that I have no doubt as to his sentiments. I thank 
him for the news he gives me, and am much distressed at what 
happened to him} Farewell, good man and foithful subject. 
I hope that the God to whom you have been faithful will 
support you, and will comfort you in all you have to endure.'''' 

On that day, the 12th, the commissioners of the Temple 
made us carry up Madame Royale's dinner as usual, but they 
would not let us lay the table. They gave each of the pri- 
soners a plate, in which they put some soup and a piece of 
beef, with a bit of coarse bread beside it. They gave them 
a tin spoon, an iron fork, and a knife with a black wooden 
handle ; and a bottle of wine from the tavern. 

The commissioners then ate the dinner prepared for the 
royal prisoners. 

It was thus that the scoundrels began to carry out their 
odious order, and it was thus that the princesses were treated 
throughout the rest of their imprisonment. 

On the following day, the 13th October, at six o'clock in 
the morning, the municipal officers notified to me that I was 
to leave the Temple instantly. I and my good comrades, 
Chretien and Marchand, went away heart-broken by what we 
had seen, and full of fears for the future of our august and 
unhappy employers. 

I joined my family at Tournan-en-Brie. At first I suffered 
a good deal of persecution, but little by little it ceased, and I 
was allowed to live in peace. 

^ He had been arrested, but had escaped. — {Note by Turgy.) 



80 




PRINCESS MARIA CHARLOTTE THERESA. 

From a miniature made at Basle in 1795. 



THE NARRATIVE OF 
TOWN-COUNCILLOR GORET 

"Charles Goret, formerly Inspector of Market Supplies, 
municipal officer^ residing at No. 25, Rue de Bievre." 

Such is the infonnation supplied by the National Almanaeh of 
1793, and it is nearly all we know about this individual. We 
will only add that at the time of the 9th Thermidor Goret had a 
post as agent to the Minister of the Interior^ and to the Com- 
mission for Supplying the Town of Paris with Provisions. His 
narrative appeared during the early months of the Restoration, 
and was entitled : My testimony with regard to the confinement of 
Louis X VI. and his family in the Temple Tower. 

I was a member of the famous Commune of August 10th, 
1792. It may seem strange that I owed my appointment to 
this post, which was fraught with so much danger, to the 
famous Abbe Delille and several of his colleagues, professors 
at the College de France, to whom I had the honour of being 
known. They sent for me to my own house on the morning 
of August 10th, and on my joining them employed all their 
influence to persuade me to fill th^ post in the place of their 
colleague the Abbe Cournaud, who had been nominated 
during the preceding night by the Section of Sainte-Gene- 
vieve, now the Section of the Pantheon. In vain I resisted : 
I was obliged to yield ; and those same gentlemen, who were 
not without influence in the section^ immediately saw that my 
name was substituted for that of M. Cournaud. When they 
gave me the nomination paper, they said to me : " We know 
you, and we hope you will fulfil the duties of this office in 
accordance with our wishes." I do not think I betrayed 
their hopes. 

81 G 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

About nine or ten o'clock in the morning of the 10th 
August, then, I found myself on a bench of the General 
Council of the Commune. It is needless to record here what 
took place during the most stormy moments of that body's 
existence : there were witnesses enough. It was thence that 
I was sent, as a member of the General Council, to guard the 
royal prisoners, a few days after their arrival at the Temple. 
They were then in the building adjoining the Tower,^ and 
had a staircase connected with the staircase of the Tower. 
There were four or five little rooms, which were not very 
habitable, for they contained no furniture that was not 
strictly necessary. They were only about fifteen or sixteen 
feet above the ground, and the windows were not barred. 
Later on I will return to this subject. 

I entered the room in which the royal family were all 
sitting together. My orders were to keep my hat on my 
head when I went in, but I began by disobeying that order. 
I was also told to address the King simply as Monsieur^ and 
I had heard that this did not disturb him in the least, but 
that he was obviously annoyed when addressed as Capet. 
This name, therefore, never once left my lips in his presence. 
At this time he was still wearing his orders, of which he was 
deprived later on. When I entered he was playing chess 
with his sister Madame Elizabeth, and I sat down at the back 
of the room, the ceiling of which was nearly as low as that 
of an enti'esol. This made the room rather dark. To save 
myself from embarrassment I had taken a book from a little 
bookcase ^ that was there, as though I intended to read ; and 
a moment later the Queen, who was near the window, 
watching the game with her children, spoke to me very 
pleasantly. " Come over here, monsieur," she said ; " where 
we are you will see better to read." I thanked her, observing 
that I cared little about the book, without saying more ; but 

^ That is to say, in the Little Tower. (See plan A. ) 

^ At the very beginning of his confinement the King had asked for books. 
He read a great deal to himself and a little to his son, whose education he 
undertook. It has been calculated that between the 13th August, 1792, 
and the 21st January, 1793, he read 257 volumes. The ladies had also 
asked for books : the Thousand and One Nights, the romances of Cecilia, 
Evelina, etc. (See Papiers dii Temple, by M. la^Morinerie, Nouvelle Revue 
of April 1st, 1884.) 

82 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

the truth is that I should have been afraid to be seen accepting 
the Queen's suggestion, for I knew that the National Guards 
on watch at the door could look through the key-hole and 
see all that went on in the room. Various people had already 
been seriously compromised with the General Council by 
reports from that quarter. Madame Elizabeth, though 
engaged in her game with the King, seemed amused at my 
embarrassment, which was after all very natural in any novice 
who was at all capable of reflecting on the vicissitudes of 
life. " There," I said to myself, " is a family whom I have 
seen at the very zenith of power and splendour and honour, 
confined now in this humble, gloomy lodging, while I am not 
even allowed to show them the least attention ; whereas 
formerly I should have considered myself greatly honoured and 
very fortunate if they had graciously accepted my homage." 

It seemed to me that Madame Elizabeth read my thoughts, 
especially when she said : " Come, your Majesty, be off" ! " allud- 
ing to the chessman known as the king. Soon the King rose 
from his seat, and came over to tell me that they were in the 
habit of going out to walk about in the shade of the garden, 
and that it was necessary to obtain permission from the 
Council in residence at the Temple. I instantly sent to ask 
for this permission from my colleagues of the Council ; and 
as soon as it was secured we prepared to go out. 

Madame Elizabeth came up to me, saying : " As this is the 
first time you have been here, monsieur, perhaps you do not 
know the correct rules of precedence. I will teach them to 
you. You lead the way, and we will follow you." I obeyed 
the instructions of the august mistress of the ceremonies, 
and we set off". When we reached the foot of the staircase 
the sentry who was on guard there asked me if he should 
present arms. I answered simply : " You ought to know 
what your orders are," and as I passed on at once I could 
not see what he decided to do. 

As soon as we were in the shade the King and Clery, the 
valet de chamhre, amused themselves by giving the young 
prince some exercise with a little ball.^ The Queen sat down 

^ In the Daily Record of Demands made on behalf of the King and His 
Family in the Temple after the 5th September, 1792, by GUry, valet de chambre 

83 G 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

on a bench, with the princesses, her daughter and Madame 
Elizabeth, on her right hand. I was on the left. She 
opened the conversation by pointing to the Tower,^ which 
faced us, and asking me what I thought of it. "Alas, 

of the Prince Royal in the King^s Employ, we find this entry : "For the 
Prince Royal, two rather large balls. " (See Papiers du Temple, by M. la 
Morinerie, Nouvelle Revue of April 1st, 1884.) 

1 In La Maison du Temple de Paris, by Henri de Curzon, we may read 
the following detailed account of the four-hundred-year-old dungeon that 
served as a prison for the royal family. 

" There is every reason to believe that this formidable witness to the 
greatness of the Templars remained absolutely unchanged from the time 
of its foundation to the day it was destroyed, and that it might yet have 
stood against the assaults of several centuries. It was, indeed, so solidly 
built that no record of any restoration or repairs, except of the roof, was 
ever entered in the account books. 

" A fortress such as this, one would think, was destined to repel many 
a violent assaiilt, for the Templars built it with as much care as they had 
expended on any of their castles in the East, which were so often besieged. 
In France, however, their castle was never to be more than a witness, a 
symbol, a guarantee of the feudal power and authority of their Order ; 
for the Temple Prison had no history ; it was never piit to the test, so to 
speak, till the day when it was demolished by the workman's hammer. 

' ' We should be wrong, however, to pass it by without a close inspection, 
for it is of a rare type ; unique, perhaps, in its simplicity, and at the same 
time both robust and graceful. We will try to depict it as completely as 
possible, with the help of original documents. 

" The materials had been very carefully chosen. The Report of the 
Official Inspection of Ancient Buildings, drawn up by Colbert's orders in 
1678, describes it as being : ' du haiU ban franc et liais du faubourg Saint 
Jacques et du, Mont Souris.' 

" The Visitation of 1495 describes it thus. ' C'est une grosse tour de 
pierre tailUe qarie, et a chascun quanton une tourelle de mesmes, p^Hnse 
de pi& jusques au feste. Et toutes cincq sont convertez de plomhz et 
vousteez de quatre estaiges ; et dedans icelle a puys, cave, four, mollin et 
chappelle, le tout bien entretenu. Lesquelles tours souloyent estre enviromieez 
de fossez a fons de cuve, plains cVeauiue, et a pons-levis, qui estait forte 
chose; onais on a est4 contrainct, du temps des Templiers, de les combler, 
et d present, n'y a point. ' This description, the oldest we have been able 
to find, was still accurate at the beginning of this century. We will add 
the correct figures, and make them more complete by giving some account 
of the interior. 

" The height of the Great Tower included four storeys and a loft under 
the roof, without counting the cellar, which, with the well, seems to have 
been no longer in existence at the time of the Revolution. 

" At that time the total height was about 50 metres ; of which 7 
metres were occupied by the first storey (which had become the ground 
floor by the gradual rising of the soil) ; 6m. 50 by the second storey ; 6 
metres by the third ; 4m. 50 by the fourth ; and 15 metres by the 
pyramidal roof. The turrets only measured 45 metres. 

" The openings for the well and for the cellar-stairs — built in the thick- 
ness of the walls — were on the first floor, as was the case in most mediaeval 
dungeons. The Tower was mentioned again in the Visitation of 1662, as 
well as in that of 1756." 

84 



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!■;! 



z-* s^ 



if ii, S 1 



if 's 






\ 



•^ ^ 




THE TEMPLE TOWER IN SEPTEMUEK, 1792. 

From an original sketch b}' Lequeux, National Guard. 
(Bibliotheque Nationale.) 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

madame," 1 answered, " there is no such thing as a beautiful 
prison ! This one reminds me of another that I saw when 
I was young, the one in which Gabrielle de Vergj was im- 
prisoned." " What ! " replied the Queen, " you have seen that 
other prison ? " " Yes, madame,"" I answered. " It is a still 
larger tower than this one that we are looking at, and it is 
situated at Couci-le-Chateau, where I lived when I was 
young."" The Queen immediately called her husband, who 
joined us, and when she had told him what I had just said 
the King asked me for various details about the tower in 
question. I told him what I had noticed there, and he seemed 
satisfied, giving us at the same time a geographical description 
of Couci-le-Chateau, as though he were an expert in geo- 
graphy ; and indeed it is well known that his knowledge of 
•that science was profound. 

We remained out of doors for an hour or two, after which 
the royal family expressed a wish to go in, whereupon 
followed the same ceremonial as before. The King retired 
to his own room, and the princesses with the children to 
theirs, and I remained alone in the outer room, which served 
as a little salon where the family might meet for conver- 
sation or games. Madame Elizabeth was the first to enter. 
She came and leant against the back of my seat, and began 
to sing a little song ; and on her niece entering the room 
almost immediately afterwards she asked her to sing too. 
The young princess refused obstinately, with childish airs 
and graces, which I attributed to her sense of dignity or 
to her incomplete realisation of the position she was in, of 
which her aunt was more conscious. The Queen entered at 
this moment, and Madame Elizabeth told her of the rebuff 
she had received at the hands of the young princess. " Your 
daughter will be obstinate," she said, " very obstinate 
indeed, I assure you, sister." It seemed to me that Madame 
Elizabeth was rather nettled by this refusal from her niece, 
with whom she then went out of the room. The Queen was 
left alone with me. She took from a little cabinet a handful 
of twists of paper, which she came and unfolded before me, 
saying, "This is my children's hair — at such-and-such an 
age." I noticed that all the pieces of hair were more or less 

85 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

fair. The Queen returned them to the place she had taken 
them from, and then came back to me, rubbing her hands 
with scent and waving them near my face so that I might 
smell the scent, which was very sweet.^ 

The King had remained in his room. The valet de chamhre 
came to announce that dinner was ready, and we all 
proceeded to the room that served as a dining-room. The 
meal was, I might almost say, sumptuous. The King sat in 
the middle, with the princesses and the children at each side ; 
while I sat at a little distance from the table, still disobeying 
the order that bade me keep my head covered. I simply 
wore my scarf. The whole family struck me as eating 
heartily, with the same air of serenity that they wore at 
Versailles during a public dinner, when they were surrounded 
by everything that could enhance their dignity and ensure 
their safety. Their conversation during this meal was 
confined to indifferent subjects. 

The reader must not be too much surprised at my saying 
that the meal was sumptuous : ^ it is but the truth ; and all 

^ " Bought for Louis XVI." at the Tower, some tea, some eau de Cologne 
and some eau de milice {sic). — (Pajjiers du Temple, by M. la Morinerie, 
Nouvelle Revue of April 1st, 1884.) 

2 The following note, dating from the early days of September, will not 
be without interest. 

"According to the report drawn up, and heard with much interest by 
the Commune, Louis XVI. and his family have in the Temple tiuelve 
domestics connected with the culinary department : a head cook, a plain 
cook, an assistant cook, a scullion, a turnspit, a steward, an assistant, a 
boy, a keeper-of-the-plate, and three waiters, 

" Breakfast. In the morning the steward provides for breakfast seven 
cups of coffee, six of chocolate, a coffee-pot of double cream, a decanter of 
cold syrup, another of barley water, three pats of butter, a plate of fruit, 
six rolls, three loaves, a sugar basin of powdered sugar, another of loaf 
sugar, a salt cellar. 

' ' Not all of this is consumed by the prisoners. The remains are devoted 
to the use of three persons M'ho wait iipon them in the Tower, and of the 
twelve domestics mentioned above. 

^'Dinner. For dinner the head cook provides three soups and two 
courses, consisting, on days that are not fast-days, of four entries, two 
dishes of roast meat, each containing three joints, and four entremets ; 
and on fast-days, of four entries, at least three of them, and perhaps all, 
being of meat, two roasts, foi;r or five entremets. Dessert. — The steward 
generally adds by way of dessert a plate of pears, three compotes, three 
plates of fruit, three pats of bvitter, two kinds of sugar, a bottle of oil, a 
bottle of Champagne, a little decanter of Bordeaux, another of Malvoisie, 
another of Madeira, and seven rolls. 

"For those who dine on what is left, a two-pound loaf and two bottles 
of vin ordinaire are added. 

86 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

the meals were equally so throughout the time that I was 
fulfilling my painful functions at the Temple, that is to say, 
till about the month of April, 1793. This is not so surpris- 
ing when one learns that the heads of the kitchen department 

" /S'M^^er consists of three soups and three courses. On days that are 
not fast-days they are composed of two entr4es, two roasts, and four or five 
entremets ; on fast-days of four entries not made of meat, two or three of 
meat, two roasts, and four entremets. Dessert, the same as for dinner, 
except as regards coffee. 

" Louis XVI. 's son generally has a little supper separately. 

" The increase of the number of dishes at dinner and supper on fast- 
days arises from the fact that Louis XVI. fasts regularly on the days 
prescribed by the Church, while his companions do not. He alone drinks 
wine ; the others only drink water. 

" What is left over is first given to the three servants in the Tower, 
who hand on the remainder to the servants in the kitchen and pantry. 
One or two dishes are added, with bread and wine. 

" During the first twenty days the baker supplied bread to the value of 
100 livres, at 4 or 5 sous a pound. The butcher furnished about 100 
lbs. of meat a day, at 13 sous a pound. The pork-butcher supplied 
about 25 lbs. of bacon a day at 16 sous a pound. Between the 16th August 
and the 9th September fowls to the value of 1,544 livres, 15 sous were sup- 
plied, that is to say, 56 lbs. weight a day. The consumption of fish — includ- 
ing both sea and river fish— varied from 9 to 10 lbs. a day. At the same 
period a fruiterer sent in a bill for vegetables which only amounted to 
4 livres ; but at that time and till the end of October a messenger from 
Versailles was bringing vegetables from the palace gardens to the amount 
of 15 lbs. a load. The same fruiterer supplied, between the 13th and the 
31st August, fruit to the value of 1,000 livres, including 83 baskets of 
peaches for 425 livres. 

" Of butter, eggs, and milk the quantity used was about 40 lbs. a day : 
and, during the first 27 days, 428 lbs. of butter, 160 small pats of butter, 
2,152 eggs, some absolutely new-laid and some laid any time within the 
week, 111 pints of cream, both double and single, 41 pints of milk, 228 
bottles of Champagne and viii ordinaire. Several bottles of it came from 
the cellars of the ci-devant King. A water-carrier supplied water to the 
value of 4 livres a day. 

"During the same period 1,516 livres' worth of wood, 24:5 livres' worth of 
coal, and 400 livres' worth of candles were supplied. " 

This report to the Commune was printed in the form of a placard, and 
sold in Paris, with the following sensational heading : 

A very strange Report, laid before the Commune of Paris, on the enormous 
expenses of the prisoners in the Temple. 

Do not be surprised, Citizens, if food becomes dearer. The cannibals of 
the Temple Tower, whom you imagine are being treated like prisoners, only 
consu7ne about one hundred pounds of beef and twenty-five pounds of bacon 
a day, and during twenty-five days have only eaten fowls to the value of one 
thousand five hundred and forty -four livres, fifteen sous. See the folloioing 
Report to the Commune. 

The enemies of royalty still contrived to make the prisoners of the 
Temple responsible for the general famine ! 

We will add, quoting M. de Vyre's Histoire de Marie Antoinette, that 
the plate of the prisoners comprised one silver soup-tureen, eighteen spoons 
and forks, one gravy-spoon, one soup-ladle, eight coffee-spoons, two coffee- 
pots, and twelve knives. 

87 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

at the Temple had formerly been employed at Versailles in 
the same capacity ; and the Committee formed by the General 
Council took care that nothing was wanting in this connec- 
tion — so much so, indeed, that the expenses of the depart- 
ment amounted to more than 80,000 francs a month. '^ 
These expenses, it is true, included those of all the people 
officially employed in the Temple, who had their meals 
there. There was also a special table for those members of 
the General Council who were on duty, usually amounting to 
twelve or fifteen, and for some of the officers on the staff of 
the National Guard. The morning and evening meals were 
no less unexceptionable. 

When it was time to retire to rest the princesses and the 
children went to their room, after first showing their affec- 
tion for the King, with every mark of tenderness and respect. 

The King, accompanied by Clery, entered his bedroom, 
whither I followed them. While Clery was making every- 
thing ready for his master, the latter went into a little turret 
that adjoined his room, to say his prayers. I accompanied 
him, but as the place measured about four feet in diameter it 
was too small to hold two people without inconvenience. 
The King drew my attention to this fact, and then proceeded 
to read his prayers from a breviary, having placed in my 
hands a book that I recognised as the Imitation of Jesus 
Christ. I saw that this constraint disturbed the King, for 
he added : " I shall not run away : do not be afraid," and 
I therefore retired to the other room, whither his Majesty 
returned when he had finished saying his prayers. He 
undressed with Clery's help, and went to bed. I remained in 
this room alone with the King. I threw myself, without 
undressing, upon a sofa, in the hope of obtaining a little rest ; 
but this I found impossible, for no sooner did the King lie 
doAvn than he fell into a sleep that not only appeared to be 
profound, but was accompanied by continuous and truly 
remarkable snoring. 

^ At the Sitting of the 12th August the Legislative Assembly had decreed 
that a sum of 500,000 livres should be granted to the King for the expenses 
of his household until the meeting of the National Convention. This sum 
was to be paid in amounts of one- eighth of the total. Apparently only 
the first eighth was paid to Louis XVI. 

88 







J. B. CLERV. 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

In the morning when the King rose I was relieved from 
my guard by one of my colleagues. He, and those who 
came after him, no doubt saw the same things that I had 
seen, or things very similar. An account of one of these 
days, therefore, that were so painful to me, may serve as an 
example of all the days that my colleagues spent in this 
place, which the royal family only occupied while prepara- 
tions were being made in the Tower, whither, as soon as it 
was ready, they were removed. But I am not prepared to 
say that all those of my colleagues who filled this office 
behaved exactly as I did. 

The General Council of the Commune, as everyone knows, 
was composed of a great number of men of all classes. 
There were men of science in it, men of letters, artists and men 
of business, merchants and artisans, from the shoemaker to 
the stone-cutter ; and among these it was very natural that 
there should be some whose want of education made them 
little suited to fill this office worthily, though they filled it, 
nevertheless, whenever their turn came or the lot fell on 
them. 

No doubt the royal family could detect at a glance whether 
those who came among them were capable of being moved 
by the feelings that their presence and situation ought to 
have inspired, and regulated their conduct accordingly. 

I will now describe what I saw and heard in the Tower, 
after the royal family had been removed thither.^ There is 
no need for me to say that there was someting sinister about 
the appearance of this place, for there are various histories 
of Paris that describe it. It was, in a word, a monument to 
the power and despotism of the Templars, such power and 
despotism as the Jesuits may have exercised in Paraguay 
when they ruled there. The storey on which the royal family 
were lodged was raised very high above the ground, beyond 
the reach of any escalade : the first door, on the ground 
floor, was of oak, about six or eight inches in thickness, and 
was strengthened with strong iron bands, iron locks, and 
enormous bolts on the inside. The staircase was narrow, 
and upon it several other doors had been put up, of which 
1 The 26th October, 1792. 

89 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

the last was the entrance door to the rooms in which the 
royal family were confined. This last door was of massive 
iron, and was furnished with strong locks and with very 
strong bolts on the inside : it was about an inch thick. 
Outside it there was a landing so small that it would not 
have given any foothold for an attack on the door. 

The first time I went into this new prison the Queen, 
recognising me, came up to me and said, " We are very glad 
to see you." This place had been newly decorated, if one 
may use such an expression in regard to a prison. The outer 
room, in which my colleagues and I sat — for at that time 
there were often at least two of us on guard — was hung with 
a paper intended to represent architecture. It opened into a 
little dining-room and into the room occupied by the King, 
where we did not remain during the night. Next to the 
latter was the room occupied by the princesses and the 
children, beyond which was Clery's room. All these places 
were nicely decorated and furnished. The windows, whose 
embrasures measured about six feet in depth, were furnished 
with strong iron bars, and had screens outside them, so that 
it was impossible to see the interior of the prison from any of 
the high buildings outside. The King and his family had 
lost much of the serenity that I had formerly observed in 
them : the King walked to and fro, and wandered from his 
own room into the outer one where we were sitting. Some- 
times he glanced at the upper part of the window, and asked 
what the weather was like ; I have seen him, too, looking at 
a large board that hung on the wall of this same room with 
the Rights of Man inscribed upon it. The King, having read 
what was on the board, said : " That would be very fine if it 
were practicable." The Queen sat in her room more quietly, 
but Madame Elizabeth walked to and fro like the King, and 
often had a book in her hand. The children came and went 
in the same way ; and the appearance and behaviour of the 
whole family was very different from what I had observed 
before they were moved to their present quarters. Every- 
thing seemed to foretell the still greater misfortunes that we 
witnessed later on. The father, wife, and sister were much 
seldomer together, and conversed much less frequently. It 

90 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

seemed as though they feared to aggravate their ills by 
speaking of them ; and this is the saddest of all states, to 
be beyond the reach of consolation. The children had lost 
the playfulness they had hitherto preserved. In a word, 
everything reflected the gloom that had been cast over this 
place by preventing the light from entering except through 
the top of the windows. 

Who was it that prompted all these precautions, of which 
some were probably unnecessary ? I do not know. I heard 
no discussion on the subject in the General Council, and I 
have always believed that some secret and powerful faction 
carried out these measures in spite of the Council, and even 
of the Mayor who presided over it. 

The Queen and Madame Elizabeth occupied themselves 
with various little pieces of work in their room,^ and with 
the education of the young princess, while the King, in his, 
was teaching his son. Neither did the Queen neglect the 
education of the latter, for one day, when the young prince 
came out of her room into the one that I had just entered, 
and as he passed looked at me without any kind of greeting, 
the Queen, having seen it, called him and said to him 
severely : " My boy, come back, and say Good morning to 
the gentleman as you pass him " ; which he did. This 
incident may seem insignificant, but it is not so, for it 
shows at least that the teachings of this child's mother were 
very different from those that slander imputed to her afterwards, 
to which subject I shall have occasion to return before I have 
done. After a time the kind of affinity that had seemed to 
exist between the royal prisoners and some of their warders 
became less marked ; but as several of us were then on guard 
together — never less than two — it is possible that they may 
have noted the character of each, and have thought it best 
to show more reserve. Once, however, when I was alone, 
Madame Elizabeth came and asked me if I had no news- 
papers I could lend them. I answered that I had none, which 
was true. She remarked that some of my colleagues some- 
times lent them papers, but she hoped their doing so would 

1 In M. de Reiset's Madame Eloff interesting details will be found con- 
cerning the Queen's needlework during her imprisonment. 

91 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

not compromise them. I think it was then that I told her, 
as the latest news, that the department had just suspended 
Petion from his functions as Mayor, of which fact she at once 
informed the King and Queen. 

These little details, which if they are minute are also 
accurate, may give some idea of the daily existence of 
the royal prisoners. I will add a few finishing touches 
to this picture of their circumstances. 

Some historians have mentioned two or three of my 
colleagues as having shown great zeal in making themselves 
useful to the royal prisoners. No doubt this zeal was very 
praiseworthy, but as I sometimes witnessed it myself I 
am in a position to say that it was often indiscreet or 
ill-advised, and that these men — setting aside the motive 
that prompted their action — nearly always did more harm 
than good to the august family : for reports of their zeal, 
which was sometimes imprudently shown, hardly ever failed 
to reach the ears of the General Council, and resulted in 
measures of increased rigour being taken for the security 
of the royal prisoners, for whose custody this Council had been 
made responsible by a special law. Indeed, some of the mem- 
bers to whom I refer were even forbidden to enter the Temple. 

But I promised to give some more details. One day 
when I was alone on guard the King came up to me and 
asked if I had seen and known him before the circumstances 
arose that brought me so closely in contact with him. I 
answered that I never had that honour, although I had 
very often been at Versailles and even in the Palace. " But 
how was it then that you did not see me ? " " The reason of 
it," I answered, " is that I am short-sighted, and have never 
been able to distinguish one person from another, even 
at a short distance." " What brought you so often to 
Versailles .? " " I was watching the course of a certain law- 
suit in the Conseil des DepecliesT " What was the lawsuit "^ 
That was the Council in which I generally presided person- 
ally." " It concerned a demand on the part of several 
communes of the province of Artois, who were protesting 
against the execution of certain letters patent obtained 
by the States of that province, authorising the division 

92 




LAMOIGNOX DE MALESHERBES. 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

of common lands." "I remember the affair very well," 
said the King, "and I remember too that the people won 
their case." At this point in the conversation M. de 
Malesherbes came in, and on the King telling him what 
we were speaking of, he too seemed to recall the lawsuit in 
question. M. de Malesherbes said to me : " As the people 
won their case they must have been greatly pleased." " Yes, 
monsieur," I answered, " but their pleasure was rather 
damped by the still recent memory of all they had suffered 
in the seven or eight years for which the case had been 
going on, during which time their adversaries, the States of 
the province, had subjected the inhabitants to outrageous 
persecutions." " How was that ? " asked M. de Malesherbes. 
" I am speaking the exact truth," I answered. " One 
commune, that of Heninlietard, was subjected to a sort 
of siege because it had joined the protesting party. Its 
municipal officers and those of other communes, together with 
whole families, both men and women, were thrown into 
prison : and when the people, by dint of repeated prayers, 
had obtained some hope of relief, some ministerial letters, 
intercepted by the deputies who went to Court, reduced the 
matter to the same unhappy state as before." The King then 
spoke — and I give his exact words : " It was M. Deconzie," ^ 
he said, "the Bishop of Arras, who dragged that affair 
out to such a length." 

I could not help answering the King in a way I afterwards 
regretted, because my words seemed to affect him disagree- 
ably. This was what I said : " Alas ! how much harm 
the clergy and the nobles have done you ! " The conver- 
sation ended there. The King at once returned to his room 
with M. de Malesherbes. 

It may be that the reason the King was affected by 
this was that, the province of Artois being on the frontier, he 
thought it would be to his advantage that it should be 
favourable to him. He spoke to me sometimes after this, 
but he never mentioned this subject again. 

^ Louis Francois Marc Hilaire de Conzie. This was the prelate who had 
been Robespierre's patron. He gave him the post of judge in his episcopal 
court on 9th March, 1782. 

93 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

I will now describe another and more agreeable visit 
paid to us by the King. We sometimes amused ourselves, 
my colleagues and I, by playing dominoes with Clery. On 
one occasion the King came to us, took possession of the 
dominoes, and built little houses with them so skilfully that 
it was plain he understood the principles of architecture and 
knew the laws of equilibrium. Of course it is well known that 
he was always interested in mechanics, and especially in the art 
of making locks, which did not prevent him from being also 
interested in science and literature. He was able to expound 
Latin authors, and after his death there was found on 
his chimney-piece a volume of Tacitus that had often been in 
his hand. In it he had written comments that were extremely 
applicable to his situation. To him might be applied the 
words : Mens sana in corpore sano. He had the strongest 
constitution possible : I never heard him complain of the 
least indisposition during the whole time that I was in the 
habit of seeing him. 

M. de Malesherbes, his sagacious counsel, was frequently 
with him, especially towards the end. One day I was 
escorting that excellent man away from the King's room. 
When we reached the foot of the staircase we were about to 
pass through the door, though the orders were to go into the 
room at the bottom of the stairs for M. de Malesherbes to be 
identified ; to which order he had conformed as he came in. 
The venerable lawyer paused, and said : " I must go in here 
to be identified." " It is not necessary, monsieur," I said, 
holding him back by the arm, " since you are with me." 

" What does that matter ? " he answered. " One should 
never disobey an order " ; and he went into the room. 

A man of this kind was well suited to be a legislator 
since he knew so well how to give an example of submission 
to the law. After this incident we crossed the great court 
to the main entrance of the Temple,^ where his carriage was 
waiting for him ; and as we went we spoke of Louis XVL's 
position, for it was but a few days before the end. Of this 
conversation the following words have always remained in 
my memory. " I cannot," said M. de Malesherbes, " make 
^ In the Rue du Temple. (See plan B, 2.) 

' 94 



THE NAURATIVE OF GORET 

the King pay any attention to his affairs, or give his mind 
to them. Grave as his position is, he shows the greatest 
indifference to it." Here we see the impassibility of which I 
have ah'eady spoken. This was the last time I was in the 
Temple before the King's death. 

On that day of tragic memory I remained at home till it 
was nearly evening, and then repaired to the General Council, 
where I found only a few of my colleagues, sitting in melan- 
choly silence. This was broken at last by Jacques Roux, an 
infamous priest who had been present at the execution, and 
had drawn up the official report of the King's death, which 
he proceeded to read in a tone of real ferocity. He had been 
accompanied by another priest called Danjou,^ also a member 
of the Council. Two priests were found willing to be present 
at this horrible execution. Ah, do not let us dwell upon it ! 

It ought to be known how these two priests, on the day 
before the execution, were chosen by the General Council to 
be present on the occasion. Chaumette was presiding, and he 
called on the Council to elect two of its members as com- 
missioners to be present at the execution, and to draw up a 
formal report of the King's death, because the custody of his 
person had been entrusted, by a special law, to the Council. 
Not one of the members seemed disposed to accept the office. 
The nomination was about to be made by casting lots, when 
the two priests mentioned above spontaneously offered them- 
selves for this horrible mission, which probably no other 
member of the Council would have been found willing to 
undertake ; for I may say with perfect truth that, with the 
exception of such men as Chaumette and Hebert, we were all 
bewailing this terrible disaster, and asking : " Why put him 
to death ? Why not send him away to Austria ? He 
would do no more harm there than those of his family who 
are there already." We were all in favour of the latter 
course, and again I can say with absolute truth, without 
attempting to justify the mistakes the Council may have 
made on some occasions, that in this matter we showed very 

^ Goret is wrong. Danjou was not present — in any official capacity at 
all events — at the King's execution. Jacques Roux and Jacques Claude 
Bernard were the two who signed the Report of the Execution as com- 
missioners of the Commune. 

95 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

plainly that at the bottom of our hearts we loved the King. 
This love for the King was shared by the majority of the 
people : and was shown, too, by that sentry of whom I spoke, 
who at the entrance to the Temple Tower asked me if he 
should present arms, thus proving the respect he still felt for 
the King in spite of the turmoil of the times, when none 
were posted as sentries at the Temple but those who had 
shown the greatest devotion to the principles of the Revo- 
lution. 

You who emigrated, you who think yourselves the only 
ones whose hearts beat for the King whom you forsook at 
the moment of danger, what answer can you give to this ? 
Why did you not rather remain in your own country to 
support the wishes of the majority of the people ? 

But I am forgetting that I am at the meeting of the 
General Council immediately after the King's death.^ I had 

^ One might bring forward a hundred instances of the annoyances — of 
the cruelties even — to which the General Council perpetually subjected the 
prisoners. One day — it was the 25th March — the Queen's chimney caught 
fire. "In the evening," says Madame Royale, "Chaumette, the 
procureur of the Commune, came for the first time to see my mother and 
ask her if she wanted anything. My mother only asked for a means of 
communicating with my aunt's room ; for during the two terrible nights 
that we had passed with her, my aunt and I had lain upon a mattress on 
the floor. The commissioners opposed this request, but Chaumette said 
that in my mother's state of prostration it might be necessary for her 
health, and he would mention it to the General Council. On the following 
day he came back at ten o'clock in the morning with Pache, the Mayor, 
and that fearful Santerre, the Commandant-general of the National Guard. 
Chaumette told my mother that he had mentioned her request for a door 
to the General Council and that it had been refused. She made no answer. 
Pache asked her if she had no complaint to make. My mother said. No ; 
and paid no more attention to what he said." 

Fresh precautions were taken : a wall was built in the garden, lattices 
were put up at the top of the Tower, and every hole was carefully stopped 
up. On the 1st April the Commune decided "that no person on guard at 
the Temple should make any drawing of any kind whatever, that the 
commissioners on duty should have no communication with the prisoners 
nor undertake any commission for them, that Tison and his wife should 
not leave the Tower nor communicate with any person whatever outside 
its walls." But this last prohibition, hard as it was on the prisoners, was 
also hard on the Tisons : they could no longer see anyone, not even their 
relations. One day when their daughter had been refused admission — it 
was the 19th April — Tison flew into a violent rage, and, not knowing upon 
whom to vent his fury, naturally attacked the prisoners and those who 
seemed to take some interest in them. He declared to Pache, who 
happened to be in the Tower, that certain commissioners spoke in lowered 
voices to the Queen and Madame Elizabeth. On their names being 
demanded he mentioned Toulan, Lepitre, Brunot, Moelle, Vincent, and 

96 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

taken the precaution of bringing my nightcap with me, in 
the hope of being able to get myself sent to the Temple that 
day, to be with the Queen and her family ; and I succeeded 
in being chosen. 

I arrived at my post, on the storey above the one that the 
King had occupied till his death, and that his family had 
occupied with him till they were separated from him. I had 
not witnessed the parting, because I was not at the Temple 
at the time, but the first time I went there afterwards I 
remarked how greatly it had affected the whole family, and 
especially the Queen, who had become extremely emaciated 
and was quite unrecognisable. Like her, Madame J^lizabeth 
preserved a melancholy silence; the children, too, were speech- 
less, and the King seemed much more crushed since the 
separation. But, alas ! at the time of which I am speaking 
he was no more. 

As soon as the Queen saw me from the room where she was 
sitting with her family, she asked me to come in, sending a 
message by Tison, the valet de chambre she had then, for 
Clery had not been allowed to go to her after the King's 
death. The widow, as I say, asked me to go to her, which I 
did at once. She, with Madame :^lizabeth and the children, 
was sitting at a table. They all burst into tears. "Madame," 
I said in a trembling voice to the Queen, " you must take 
care of yourself for your children's sake." This was all I was 
able to say to her. Then, amid her sobs, she spoke to me. 
" We know of the sorrow that has befallen us," she said ; 
" we heard all the preparations this morning, the movements 
of the men and horses. Our loss is an accomplished fact, and 
we wish to be provided with mourning." Being unable to 
hide my feelings, I said nothing but a few broken words : 
" Alas, madame ! alas, madame ! " I then went out, assuring 

Dr. Brunier, and added that the prisoners had some means of communi- 
catmg with the outside world. As a proof he related that one day after 
supper the Queen, in taking out her handkerchief, had dropped a pencil 
and that in Madame Elizabeth's room there were wafers, sealing-wax, and 
pens in a box. His wife, on being questioned, said the same. ' The 
denunciation was signed by the two spies and sent to the Commune, who 
after having placed seals on the possessions of the suspected municipal 
officers, decided that a minute investigation should be made at the 
Temple. 

97 H 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

the Queen that I would see about the mourning she wished 
for. " The simplest things," she added. 

Returning to the room in which I usually sat, I set to work 
to lay this request before the Council in writing. The Queen 
came to me and told me she would like the mourning to be 
made by a certain sempstress, whose name and address she 
gave me ; and the very next day her request was granted.^ 
Towards evening I went away, leaving no one with the royal 
family but the valet de chambre and his wife.^ I at once went 
to Clery, who had moved into one of the rooms in the build- 
ing adjoining the Tower of which I have already spoken. He 
had been placed there, more or less as a prisoner,^ when he 
parted from the King. Him, too, I found weeping bitterly, 
and mourning the loss of his good master. What was I to 
say in such circumstances ? Greatly embarrassed, I proffered 
Clery a few words of consolation and condolence. 

Presently someone came to fetch me to supper, and, not 
wishing to leave Clery alone, I begged him to come with me, 
and persuaded him with much difficulty to do so. He sat 
down opposite me at the table and would hardly eat anything. 
General Santerre and some of the officers of his staff arrived, 
and also came to the table. Santerre began, with unequalled 
callousness, to give a detailed account of the execution, without 
omitting a single circumstance, not even the fact that he had 
ordered the drums to be beaten when the King wished to 
speak to the people. He added that as the executioner 
seemed to hesitate, he had said to him firmly : " Do your 
dutyr 

This conversation, which was certainly calculated to distress 
anyone of the least sensitiveness who heard it, affected Clery 
very considerably. I, therefore, made a sign to him to leave 
the table, and he returned at once to his room, whither I 
followed him ; and I spent the night with him. Several 
times he nearly fainted, and to revive him I employed some 
spirits that were there. The only thing I heard him say was 
this : " Alas ! my dear, good master might have saved himself 

^ See the note on p. 115. 

2 That is to say, Tison and his wife. 

^ In the rooms of the Little Tower. 

98 



THE NAURATIVE OF GORET 

if he had wished, for in this place the windows are only 
fifteen or sixteen feet above the ground. Everything had 
been prepared for his escape while he was still here, but he 
refused because his family could not be saved with him.^ 
" There," he added, showing me the book, " is his breviary. 
He left it to me, with his watch and several little things." 
But Clery seemed to attach the greatest value to the breviary, 
which he said he intended to present to the Pope. I do not 
know if he carried out this intention. 

I left Clery in the morning when I came off guard. A short 
time afterwards I returned to the Temple to the princesses, 
whom I found still in a state of the deepest sorrow. They 
declined to go out into the fresh air, as was proposed to them. 
I represented to the Queen that this was necessary for her 
health and for that of her family, and especially of the young 
princess, who had been unwell for some time. " We do not 
wish," answered the Queen, " to pass the door of the place 
which my husband left only to die." Then I suggested to 
her that they should go up to the top of the Tower, where 
there was a circular gallery, and I persuaded her to do this. 
I had some seats taken there, and we went up. 

The gallery was surrounded by a parapet of about four feet 

in height, but barely two feet wide : at the four corners were 

little turrets in which the seats had been placed. As soon as 

the people of the neighbourhood saw us they collected in the 

places whence we could be seen most easily. The young 

prince expressed a desire to look over the parapet, and the 

Queen begged me to take him in my arms. " Mon Dieu, 

madame," I said, " I should be delighted to do as you ask, 

^ It is not known to what attempt at escape Clery here alludes. No 
historian has mentioned the existence of any plot for carrying off the 
royal family before the 21st January, 1793. Nevertheless, the following is a 
somewhat curious passage from a letter written on the 11th February, 1816, 
to the Mar^chal de Richelieu by I'Hoste de Beaulieu de Versigny, formerly a 
councillor in the Ghambredes Gomptes of Paris. " Hearing a rumour that 
the King was to be tried, I went to Paris ; I employed the tactics agreed 
upon with our chiefs, fifty of us proceeded to the Temple disguised as a 
patrol, being provided with the watchword and also the password into the 
Tower ; but the lack of numbers obliged us to yield to other patrolling 
parties. The attempt failed irretrievably." This abortive attempt, which 
must not be confused with the much earlier one by Batz and de Cortey, 
was doubtless the plot to which Clery referred when speaking to 
Goret. 

LOFC. 99 h2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

but the people can see us, and if they were to observe what I 
was doing they might make a disturbance." " I did not think 
of that," said the Queen ; " you are perfectly right." 

The princesses remained on this narrow promenade as long 
as they wished, and returned to it every day when the weather 
was fine enough. After this I was less often at the Temple, 
because many of my friends asked to be sent thither, and so 
my turn came round less frequently ; moreover, I was obliged 
fairly often to attend the meetings of a Commission concerned 
with matters of police and surveillance, of which I was a 
member. One thing I noticed up to the very last time I was 
with the princesses — that their meals were perhaps less 
sumptuous than in the King's time, though there was nothing 
lacking. They gave to the young prince the same position 
and precedence that they had given to the King, Every- 
thing they wanted was procured for them by the man Simon, 
of whom several historians of the period have spoken. 

This man was a member of the General Council of the 
Commune, who had established him permanently in the 
Temple to fulfil the functions, more or less, of a factotum. 
He was a wretched shoemaker, uneducated and ignorant, but 
apparently not so ill-disposed as other historians have made 
him appear. The princesses summoned him fairly often to 
bring them anything they might require. His manner in 
their presence was rather free and easy. " What do you wish 
for, ladies ? " he would say, and he would then try to do as 
they desired. If they asked for something that was not in 
the stores of the Temple, he would run out to the shops. I 
have heard the Queen say : " We are very fortunate in having 
that good M. Simon, who gets us everything we ask for." ^ 

^ Truly this is an unexpected testimonial to the famous cobbler. We 
will add to it a note found among the Papers seized in Chaumette's House, 
preserved in the National Archives. 

A certain man, who had been wounded on the 10th August and nursed in 
the infirmary of the School of Medicine near the Cordeliers, where Simon's 
wife is known to have worked as a nurse, wrote to Chaumette to complain 
of the surgeon Lafiteau. The following passage is an extract from his 
letter : 

" There may be some members of this Assembly who know Citoyenne 
Simon. The woman, I mean, whose patriotic zeal and surgical knowledge 
have enabled her to cure a number of our brothers in arms, the brave 
Marseillais, who were wounded in the affair of the 10th August. Well, this 

100 



THE NARRATIVE OF GORET 

One day, when he had said his wife was ill in the Hotel- 
Dieu, the Queen asked for news of her. " She is better, 
thank God," he answered, and then added : " It is a pleasure 
to see the ladies of the Hotel-Dieu now ; they take great care 
of the patients ; I wish you could see them : they are dressed 
like my wife now or like you, ladies, neither more nor less."" 

The princesses seemed to be amused by the naivete of this 
man, whom Robespierre, it is said, after he had become 
paramount in the government of the Temple, made to behave 
abominably towards the young prince.^ Of this I saw nothing, 
for by then I had for some time been no longer a member of 
the General Council. 

worthy woman has done for humanity what we all ought to do. I was 
present when she came, abovit a month ago, to beg the Sieur Lafiteau's 
services for one of our companions in arms who was lying in his bed a few 
yards away from the College of Surgery, and only required to be bled. 
The case was very urgent, but Citizen Lafiteau persistently refused to go 
with her, though Gitoyenne Simon offered him a suitable fee. Gitoyenne 
Simon was quite embarrassed by this reception of her request, and, loaded 
with insults, went oflf for another surgeon." — {National Archives, T. 604-5.) 
^ See page 49. 



101 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF 
JACQUES FRANCOIS LEPITRE 

(December, 1792— October, 1793) 

Lepitre was born in Paris on the 6th January, 1 764. At the 
age of twenty he was a professor of rhetoric at the University 
and founded a school in the Rue Saint-Jacques. He was popular 
with his neighbours, and it was owing to their good opinion of 
him that his name was inscribed among the members of the 
Commune of 1789- 

After the first federation he gave up this post. He had just 
been appointed Professor of Literature in one of the Parisian 
colleges, and was still working at his school. These occupations 
were enough for him ; he was unable to take part in matters of 
public interest. He was, then, unconcerned with the affairs of 
the nation till December 2nd, 1792,^ on which date he was 
made a member of the provisional Commune. Eight days later 
he was chosen by lot to serve in the Temple in the capacity of 
warder. 

From Lepitre's narrative we may derive a very distinct idea 
of himself. He was pretentious, with a weakness for fine 
words ; and he despised his colleagues in the Commune, who did 
not, like himself, speak Latin in season and out. In a word, he 
was an unattractive individual. Physically he was fat, short, 
lame, and ugly. 

And what part did he play in the plots for the royal family's 
escape in which he was concerned ? None but Jarjayes, the 
Queen, or Toulan, could have told. We rather think that Lepitre 
was one of those who keep on good terms with all parties and 
take care to have friends in every camp. He agreed to plot for 

^ Paul Gaulot, Un complot sous la Terreur. 

102 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

the escape of the prisoners, but he would risk nothing ; and we 
may be almost absolutely sure that his vacillation was the 
undoing of a scheme that had in it many elements of success. 
He played his double game successfully to the end, and kept his 
head on his shoulders. 

While conspiring in this prudent way he was also interested 
in theatrical affairs, and in 1 793 his republican play in one act, 
La Premiere Requisition, was brought out in the City Theatre. 

In 1797 he moved his school from the Rue Saint- Jacques to 
the Rue de Saint-Louis (de Turenne) in the Marais. We hear 
of him again as a professor of rhetoric in the college at Rouen 
in I8I6; and he afterwards occupied the same post in the 
College of Versailles, where he died on the 18th January, 1821. 
He was a Knight of the Legion of Honour. 

A provisional municipality was established on the 2nd 
December, 1792. For more than three months the royal 
family had been confined in the Temple ; and it was well 
known that they had suffered much at the hands of most of 
the members of the Commune, who were charged with their 
custody. The worthy citizens of my section induced me to 
become a member of this new town-council. They knew 
my sentiments, and I willingly consented to fill a post in 
which I might be of some use. 

My nomination was not contested. I was associated with 
two colleagues ^ whose probity was well known, and I am 
pleased to do them the justice of saying so. 

On arriving at the Council of the Commune my first care 
was to scrutinise each one of its component members, some 
of whom had succeeded in being re-elected, while others were 
attending their first sitting. My scrutiny did not influence 
me in their favour. I saw that most of them were place- 
hunters, who made no effort to hide their aims when the 
forty-eight members of the municipal body were being chosen. 

Never was such impudence shown in soliciting votes. As 
my only object was to go to the Temple, and as the functions 
of the municipal officers entailed fairly frequent absences, 
I declined duties that were by no means to my taste, and 

1 One of these was Jacquotot, who under the Restoration became a 
barrister of the Royal Court of Paris. 

103 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

remained unnoticed in the crowd. What a spectacle that 
assembly presented ! Men without talent or education, 
unable or hardly able to sign their names, came in their 
shirt-sleeves and workmen's aprons to don the municipal scarf 
and sit in the president's chair. There they regulated the 
affairs of a whole nation, for this Commune of Paris soon 
placed itself on a level with the Convention, to which it often 
dictated laws. 

It had been decreed that every evening the members who 
were to serve as warders in the Temple should be chosen by 
lot. They repaired to their post at once and relieved those 
who had preceded them two days previously. On the 9th 
December M. Jacquotot and I were elected to go to the 
Temple. 

I cannot possibly describe my emotion as I entered the 
Tower. For a long time I had been haunted by a vision of 
this august family, the victims of the most horrible conspir- 
acies, bereft of liberty and exposed to every kind of insult. 
And now I was about to see a prince whose virtues made him 
worthy to be numbered among the best of kings ; his wife, 
once the nation's idol ; his pious, tender-hearted sister, the 
very model of sisterly heroism ; his son, once the heir- 
apparent of a throne that seemed to be immovably fixed, but 
now the heir of nothing but his royal parents' misfortunes ; 
and finally a young princess who was sharing the sorrows of 
her family, without any hope of their coming to an end. 
My heart stood still and I could hardly breathe when, at the 
drawing of the lots, I found it was my fate to guard the 
Queen and the princesses. 

It is here necessary to give some details as to the construc- 
tion of the Tower, and the duties performed there by the 
Commissioners of the Commune, 

The Great Tower, into which the royal family had been 
removed some time before I came to the Temple, may be 
about a hundred and fifty feet high, and is composed of four 
storeys, on each of which is a very large room, Ozi the 
second and third floors this had been divided into four rooms, 
separated by thin partitions. The great walls are about 
seven or eight feet thick, 

104 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

A certain number of the commissioners were quartered on 
the ground floor. On the first floor was a guard-room ; and 
the King occupied the second. His room was at the back, 
and was the only one with a fireplace ; the furniture was 
simple and consisted only of the barest necessaries. 

The outer room was devoted to the use of the commis- 
sioners on duty, and of the two rooms at the side, one was 
used as a dining-room and the other was occupied by Clery, 
his Majesty's valet de chambre. 

The third floor was arranged like the second : the outer 
room, in which the commissioners sat, did duty as a dining- 
room. The room at the back was the Queen's, and in it 
Monseigneur le Dauphin and Madame Roy ale also slept. At 
the side were the rooms of Madame Elizabeth and of Tison 
and his wife, who were both employed in waiting on the 
princesses. 

At the corners of the Tower on each floor there was a 
turret, in one of which was the staircase, the others being 
used for various purposes. The commissioners were on duty 
for forty-eight hours ; they arrived at nine o'clock ; then 
they had their supper, and decided who was to be on the 
second or the third floor by drawing lots. Twenty-four 
hours were spent with the prisoners, and twenty-four in the 
Council Room. Those who were on duty for the night went 
upstairs after supper and remained on guard near the King 
or the Queen until the next day at eleven o'clock. After 
their dinner they again repaired to their posts till the 
arrival of the new commissioners. On the second day they 
were again on duty for some hours. 

It was nearly midnight when my colleague Jacquotot and 
I went upstairs to the Queen's rooms. All was quiet ; even 
Tison and his wife were sleeping profoundly. We threw our- 
selves on two uncomfortable folding bedsteads, scantily 
covered by a mattress that measured about three fingers' 
width in thickness. We had nothing to protect us from the 
cold but one thin coverlet : we complained bitterly of this 
next day, and at least secured the addition of sheets, a great 
source of satisfaction to such as cared at all for cleanliness. 
We were astir before daybreak. Tison was the first person 

105 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

we saw. This crafty, cruel man was able to assume any 
expression he chose, and he always tried to win the favour of 
any commissioners he met for the first time. Abominable as 
his conversation was with those of whose evil disposition he 
was assured, he affected a certain amount of kind-heartedness 
when speaking to men who seemed to him honest and 
sympathetic, and I have myself heard him going into 
ecstasies over the charms of the young prince. But, having 
been warned as to his character, I hardened my heart against 
his insinuating ways ; though, none the less, I fell a victim to 
him. His wife modelled herself upon the same pattern, but 
the fear her husband inspired in her had more to do with this 
than had her natural inclinations. Her depositions against 
me and some of my colleagues, however, were no less 
disastrous for us on that account. 

The functions of these two individuals entailed more or less 
discomfort on the royal family according to the character of 
the members of the Commune on duty. And yet the gentle- 
ness and courtesy with which the Queen and the princesses 
asked them for the least thing can hardly be imagined. 

At eight o''clock the Queen opened her door and went into 
Madame Elizabeth's room. Her keen glance dwelt upon us 
for a moment, and it was easy to see that she was trying to 
discover the nature of our feelings with regard to her. We 
were decently dressed ; indeed, our appearance was a contrast 
to that of most of the Commissioners. The respect that 
misfortune claims from us all was plainly written upon our 
faces. Madame stood at the door of her room and 
scrutinised us for some time, and then both she and Madame 
Elizabeth came out to us and asked the name of our section^ 
observing that this was the first time we had visited the 
Temple. During breakfast, at which another commissioner 
appeared (for no meal was served except in the presence of a 
member of the Council), Ave remained in the outer room, for 
we dared not place any confidence in our colleague. 

This was Toulan,^ one of those who showed the greatest 

1 Fran9ois Adrien Toulan, born at Toulouse in 1761, was married in 
July, 1787, to Francoise Germaine Dumasbon. Toulan went to Paris after 
his marriage and opened a book-shop. Being an enthusiastic supporter of 

106 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

zeal in the service of the royal family while they were in the 
Temple. I did not know him then, and was far from 
appreciating all his merits. Indeed, I had heard him, in the 
Commune, indulging in remarks on the prisoners that were, 
to say the least, inconsiderate, if not actually disrespectful. 
Being a native of Gascony, he had all the natural vivacity of 
that part of the country, combined with a great deal of 
shrewdness, and as he was entirely fearless he was ready 
to brave anything for the sake of being of use ; but he was 
clever enough to assume a mask of republicanism, and was 
able to serve the royal family all the better for this since he 
was not suspected of being attached to them. 

When he was gone, I ventured to ask the Queen if she were 
really sure of the man with whom I had seen her conversing, 
and repeated to her some words of his that had shocked me. 
" You need not be anxious," she answered : " I know why he 
behaves like that. He is an excellent man." A few days 
later Toulan told me the princesses had advised him to find 
out what kind of man I was, and to talk matters over with 
me if he could do so safely. 

When breakfast was over my colleague, seeing a harpsichord 
at the entrance to Madame Elizabeth's room, tried to play 
a few notes upon it, but it was in such a bad condition that 
he was unable to do so. The Queen at once came foward and 
said : " I should have been glad to use that instrument, so as 

the Revolution, he took part in the events of July 14th and October 6th, 
1789, and on the 10th August appeared among the assailants of the palace. 
His conduct resulted in his being nominated a member of the Commune ; 
and being known for his ardent patriotism and the purity of his republican 
principles, he was sent to the Temple as a commissioner. Two days spent 
in the company of the prisoners were enough to make him one of their 
most devoted partisans ; and indeed, his devotion was to the death. 

But how did he make the prisoners aware of his sudden conversion ? How- 
could he do so without attracting the attention of his colleagues ? This 
we do not know and never shall know. But it is certain that the princesses 
very soon put the most entire confidence in him. By some means he con- 
vinced them so thoroughly of his sincerity and loyalty that they had no 
fear of any trap or treason. Madame Elizabeth at once informed Turgy 
of these facts, and in a note that the latter preserved she told him of the 
name the Queen and she had given Toulan : Give this to Toulan, whom 
henceforth ive shall call Fidele. M. Paul Gaulot, in his Complot sous la 
Terreur, has devoted a number of pages to a very complete study of this 
interesting character. We refer our readers to it. Here it must suffice 
us to say that Toulan paid for his devotion with his head. He was 
guillotined on the 30th June, 1794. 

107 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

to go on with my daughter"'s lessons, but it is impossible to 
use it in its present state, and I have not yet succeeded in 
getting it tuned." We promised that on that very day we 
would send for the person whose name she gave us. We sent 
an express messenger, and in the evening the harpsichord was 
tuned.^ As we were looking through the small collection of 
music that lay upon the instrument we found a piece called 
La Reine de France. " Times are changed ! *" said her 
Majesty, and we could not restrain our tears. 

On the 11th December M, le Dauphin was moved upstairs 
to his mother's rooms, but the King was not informed of the 
reason for this separation. The Mayor of Paris soon arrived, 
with Chaumette, Colombeau the registrar, and some municipal 
officers preceded by Santerre and his aides-de-camp. They 
had come to take the King before the Convention. Toulan 
informed the Queen and her family of his Majesty's departure 
and return. I went up to the King's room at eight o'clock in 
the evening, when he was having dinner. He was calm, and 
conversed for a few minutes with one of the commissioners 
whom he knew to be a geographer. 

It is well known that Louis XVI. knew more of the science 
of geography than many a professor. I left the Temple on 
the same day and returned thither on the 15th, when I was 
on duty in the King's room from eleven o'clock in the morn- 
ing until the evening. Not knowing how to occupy my time 
with a colleague who was sullen and taciturn, and was nick- 
named the Pagoda by the Queen because he never gave any 
answer but a movement of his head, I went into his Majesty's 
room and asked his permission to take the works of Virgil 
from the chimney-piece. " So you read Latin ? " said the 
King. " Yes, Sire," I answered in a low voice, 

" Non ego cum Danais Trojanam exscindere gentem 
Aulide juravi." 

An expressive glance showed me that I had been understood ; 
and his Majesty afterwards spoke of me to Clery, who con- 
firmed him in the good opinion he had formed of me. 

1 " Memorandum of expenses incurred for Louis XVI. in December, 1792. 
Supplied : quill-pens, cut ready for use ; ink ; a red morocco portfolio ; 
some almond paste ; some darning- cotton. Paid to the pianoforte inaker 
. . . 106 livres 4 sols." — {Papiers du Temple, by M. de la Morinerie.) 

108 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

While I was reading, a deputation from the Convention 
brought the papers containing the so-called evidence in the 
trial. 1 was not present throughout the whole inquiry. I 
went up several times to the Queen's room, and succeeded in 
giving her some details of what was taking place. On the 
following day I saw the man Mercereau there, a stone-cutter 
who, dressed in extremely dirty garments, stretched himself 
on the damask sofa generally occupied by the Queen, and 
justified his free-and-easy behaviour on the grounds that all 
men were equal. One might possibly forgive this person, 
who was silly enough and ignorant enough to believe what he 
professed ; but when men who boasted of their intelligence 
and excellent education were insolent enough to take an arm- 
chair before the fire and put their feet upon the fire-dogs in 
such a way that it was impossible for the princesses to warm 
themselves, who could avoid calling their conduct atrocious, 
especially when it was plainly the result of an underhand 
combination, formed with the obvious intention of insulting 
the unfortunate ? 

The disturbed state of the Temple during these two days 
prevented me from being with the royal family as long as I 
wished, but I knew that at least they were not without means 
of acquiring a certain amount of information as to passing 
events ; for notes— skilfully delivered either by Toulan or by 
a faithful servant ^ whose zeal never failed— passed between the 
illustrious prisoners and told them all that it was important 
for them to know.^ Ever since they had been entirely deprived 
of newspapers a street-crier had been hired to shout the head- 
lines of his journal in a stentorian voice under the walls of 
the Temple.^ He acquitted himself of this duty wonderfully 

1 M. Turgis (sic), now first huissier de la chambre to Madame la Duchesse 
d'Aasovileme.— {Note by Lepitre.) , , ■, i, 

2 Sometimes during the night notes were lowered or drawn iip by a 
thread through the windows of the second and third floors.— (iVoie by 

^^These methods of communicating with the outer world were supple- 
mented by another, a more curious and more dangerous method. The 
friends of the royal family had secured the co-operation of a certain 
Madame Launoy, whose little flat was on the third floor of a house m the 
Rue de la Corderie. During the night a magic lantern was set up in this 
flat and on a sheet stretched at the back of the room certain signs were 
Broiected These no doubt were letters of the alphabet, by means of 

^ 109 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

well, but his information was necessarily vague, and often 
excited the most acute anxiety. It was imperative to find 
some means that should be certain and constant, and this we 
succeeded in doing by making our visits more frequent. 
Among the members of the Commune there were many who 
were not in the least anxious to go to the Temple on Friday 
or Saturday evening to spend Sunday there, for to men who 
were busy all the week the pleasure or rest on that day 
seemed too valuable to be sacrificed to the duty of guarding 
the royal family in a state of confinement. Toulan and I 
were lucky enough to inspire our colleagues with the idea of 
entrusting to us, on those days, the duty they found so 
unpleasant. I, being a professor in the University of Paris, 
was free on Saturday evening and Sunday, and Toulan, who 
was the senior clerk in an office, was able to find a substitute 
without any difficulty. In spite of the objections we brought 
forward for the look of the thing, we were chosen nearly 
every Friday, and with the greatest satisfaction we submitted. 
On Christmas Eve, 1792, it was decreed, owing to Chau- 
mette, that the midnight mass should not be celebrated. In 
vain it was put before him that this step might give rise to a 
riot ; that the people were not so philosophical as he, and 
still clung to their ancient customs. It was decreed that 
municipal officers or members of the Council were to repair to 
the various parish churches and suppress any attempt to open 
the doors. The result of this was that the members of the 
Commune were subjected to insults and blows, the mass was 
sung, and Chaumette became more virulent than ever against 
religion and the clergy. On the 25th December, when I went 
into the Queen's room I had told her of this decree of the 
Commune, though I knew nothing of its consequences. In 
the evening a colleague of mine, a master builder called 
Beugneou, arrived on the scene with a slight wound on his 
face, and described to us how the market women had received 
him at Saint-Eustache. He laughed over his misadventure. 

which words and sentences were formed. From the third floor of the 
Temple Tower it was possible to see into Madame Launoy's room, and so 
the prisoners were able to benefit by this method of signalling. This, at 
least, is what Madame Launoy in her old age recounted to a person who 
handed the story on to us. 

110 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

He was a good honest fellow, with no idea in his head but 
blind obedience, and on this occasion his obedience had been 
unfortunate for him. 

I had, in accordance with the Queen's orders, supplied her 
with two kinds of journals : one being of sound principles and 
the other less moderate. As I always wore a large pelisse 
over my coat I found it quite easy to take into the Tower 
anything for which I was asked, or to bring away anything 
that required to be carefully concealed. Every Friday I took 
the newspapers in this way to the Queen and Madame Eliza- 
beth. They retired into one of the turrets to read them, and 
returned them to me a moment before my departure. I also 
obtained various books that I thought might interest them, 
especially VAmi des Lois, which was at that time creating a 
great sensation, and had been the cause of more than one 
stormy scene. While the princesses were reading, and when her 
Majesty was writing her letters, I remained with Madame and 
the Dauphin, which Tison noticed to his great indignation, 
and reported more than once to the Commissioners of the 
Commune. 

It was the time I had to spend in the Council Room that 
I found the most disagreeable. I often had to endure the 
silly jokes of my colleagues on the subject of what they were 
pleased to call the friendship of the prisoners for their 
obliging guardian. Indeed, I eagerly took upon myself every 
duty that gave me a reason for absenting myself. 

It was my office to receive the various supplies and the 
wine that was brought every day to the Temple. It was 
necessary to give a receipt, and there were several honourable 
members whom it would have puzzled to write it. I also 
accompanied those who carried the meals into the Tower. 
At that time the table of the royal family was very well cared 
for, a sufficient number of persons being employed in the 
pantry and kitchen, most of whom were old servants from the 
palace who had begged for their places here. They also pre- 
pared the dinner and supper of the commissioners sent by 
the Commune. At first these meals were supplied from an eat- 
ing-house outside the walls, but they were so bad and at the 
same time so expensive that it was decided to secure the 

111 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

services of those who were paid to cook for the royal family ; 
and no one ever had any reason to repent of this step. It 
was, indeed, a stroke of good luck for certain individuals who 
were unaccustomed to such good cheer. In order to avoid any 
possible injury to the dignity of the municipal office, only 
half a bottle of wine was supplied for ten or twelve persons 
at the end of each meal ; but the abstinence of some formed 
the gain of others, and one evening I saw a tailor called 
Lechenard empty the half-bottle at a gulp before going 
upstairs to the Queen. His colleague was obliged to put 
him to bed, and the next day the state of his bed and of the 
floor of his room bore witness to his intemperance. When 
the Queen left her room at eight o'clock he was stretched 
upon his pallet in a state of semi-unconsciousness, and her 
Majesty barely had time to retreat, calling to Madame 
Elizabeth, as she did so : " Do not come out of your room, 
sister." I heard these details from herself, when I succeeded 
this worthy man. We remonstrated with him on his con- 
duct ; and later on he took his revenge. 

Toulan returned to the Temple alone on the first day of 
the year 1793. He it was who acted as a messenger between 
Louis XVI. and his wife, sister, and children. About this 
time I applied in vain to the President of the Convention, 
the late M. Treilhard, to obtain leave, if possible, for the King 
and his family to be reunited. I went to M. Tronchet, but 
he was so much occupied with Louis XVI. 's defence that he 
would see no one. I then wrote him a letter, putting before 
him in the Queen's name how ardently this unhappy family 
desired to be sometimes with its august head ; but the request 
was refused. 

As long as the trial went on, whenever I was on duty at 
the Temple, it was I who escorted M. de Malesherbes into the 
Tower. The second time he came I went to meet him in 
the outer court.^ He seemed to be somewhat ill at ease, for 
on the previous day he had suffered from the boorish manners 
of the commissioner deputed to take him to his Majesty. 
He looked at me : I ventured to take his hand, and say to 

1 The principal court of the Grand Prior's palace, beyond which car- 
riages were unable to pass. (See plan A. ) 

112 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

him : " Do not be uneasy, monsieur ; non sum unus e multis " 
(I am not one of the majority). " It does me good to hear 
you say so," answered this estimable old man. " I beg 
you will come to meet me whenever you are here." I only 
once received the brave Tronchet : on the day that the 
Commune sent us a decree to the effect that Louis XVL's 
counsel were to be stripped and searched from head to foot 
with the minutest care, to make sure that they were not 
carrying any kind of instruments that might be put to a 
wrong use. The purport of this decree made us all very 
indignant, for the Council that day was composed of right- 
thinking men. We rejected this unseemly measure, to which 
M. Tronchet would certainly never have submitted. He 
merely emptied his pockets. The decree of the Commune 
was repealed. In the first week of January, Toulan and I 
had made no secret to the Queen of all the intrigues that 
were being set on foot by various scoundrels nor of the power 
of the party that supported them. She could not altogether 
abandon hope, for she refused to believe that either the French 
nation or the foreign Kings would look on at so atrocious a 
crime without any attempt to prevent it. She did not know 
all that a bold minority was capable of, when it well knew 
there was no safety for it save in the death of the King, and 
when, having bribed a number of men whose crimes made 
them reckless, it was able to overpower a well-intentioned but 
timid majority, who had no leaders, no real resources, and 
not even a rallying point. I am able to assert positively, 
without fear of contradiction, that the day on which Louis 
XVI. lost his life was a day of mourning for the majority of 
the French nation. But people shed their tears within 
their own four walls. They wept over the fate, not only of 
an illustrious family, but of the whole of France, and called 
down the vengeance of Heaven upon the monsters who had 
been the cause of all the trouble ; but out of doors they did 
not dare to let their faces reveal their real feelings. It was 
feared that a sad, gloomy expression of countenance might 
shock the distrustful eye of the villainous party in power, and 
that any feeling of regret that was allowed to appear might 
become a death-warrant. I was at the meeting of the Com- 

113 I 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

mune on the 20th January when there was a demand for 
commissioners to accompany the King on the following tragic 
day. All the members showed how revolting the idea was to 
them. Only two rose eagerly and volunteered for this 
appalling duty. These — horrible to relate — were two 
priests : Jacques Roux and Pierre Bernard.^ But what 
priests ! One of them, who was for ever preaching murder 
and pillage, would have drunk blood with delight : the other, 
who was equally cruel and more immoral, was living with a 
woman who was not his wife, by whom he had several children. 
Both these men perished miserably : the first died bathed in 
blood from head to foot ; the other wounded himself with 
knives in five places to save himself from death upon the 
scaffold. Bernard took real pleasure in flouting the sorrows 
of the royal family ; and one evening his remarks were so 
outrageous that the princesses, almost immediately after they 
had come to the table, were obliged to leave it, to escape 
from the horrible conversation of this savage. Jacques Roux 
employed another method of disturbing their rest. He sang 
all night ; and even Tison's entreaties could not keep him 
quiet.^ 

We were sent to the Temple a few days after the 21st 
January. To ensure our not being separated, Toulan had 
devised the following ruse. There were three of us ; and, as 
a rule, we drew lots with three pieces of paper, on one of 
which was written the word day, while on two others was the 
word night. Toulan wrote day on all three ; and made our 
colleague draw his lot ; then, when the latter, being the first 
to open his paper, had read the word day, we threw our 
papers into the fire without looking at them, and went off 
together to our post. As we hardly ever came twice with 
the same man this device was always successful. 

We found the royal family plunged in the deepest grief. 
As soon as they saw us the Queen, her sister, and her 
children burst into tears. We dared not advance till the 
Queen signed to us to go into the room. " You did not 

^ See note on p. 95. 

^ It was Jacques Roux, too, who refused to take charge of Louis XVI. 's 
will, saying with horrible callousness : " I am here to take you to the 
scaffold. " — [Note by Lepitre. ) 

114 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

deceive me," she said, " They have allowed the best of kings 
to die." We gave them various papers and journals that we 
had brought with us, and they were read with the utmost 
eagerness, and often watered with tears. We were closely 
questioned, and our answers did but increase the pain and 
sorrow of the prisoners. 

On the following day it was our task to introduce into the 
Temple the sempstress employed to make the mourning 
garments,^ although the Commune wished her to do her work 
after a simple pattern without taking any measurements. 
But we had already shown in a more important matter that 
we were not without courage. Madame Royale had for some 
time had a sore foot, which had given the Queen a certain 
amount of anxiety. Her request that a medical man might 
be summoned was acceded to, but this man was to be none 
other than the prison surgeon. The Queen refused the 
offer, and waited till we came. She told us about the sore 
foot, which demanded prompt treatment, and told us, too, of 
her extreme repugnance to the idea of consulting the surgeon 
whose services were offered to her. Finally, she told us of 
her wish to consult M. Brunier, physician to the " Children of 
France," and M. La Tasse,^ formerly surgeon to Monseigneur 
le Comte d'Artois and the Swiss Guards. She had their 
address in a memorandum-book ; we gave it forthwith to a 
certain intelligent boy ; and two hours later M. Brunier and 
La Tasse arrived.^ We had been obliged to secure the 
sanction of the other commissioners ; but the exercise of a 
little tact was all that was required in dealing with any of 
them who happened to be good fellows. Now, among the 

^ " Items asked for by the Queen on the 21st January : A mantle of 
black taffetas, a black fichu and petticoat, a pair of black silk gloves, two 
pairs of kid gloves, two black taffetas nightcaps, a pair of sheets (refused), 
a quilted coverlet (refused)."— (De Vyre, Histoire de Marie Antoinette.) 

^ La Gaze. 

^ Report of the commissioners on duty at the Temple, January 26th, 
year II. (1793.) Many people made the mistake of dating "year II." 
from the 1st January, 1793.) — "Visit from Brunier. Prompt treatment 
required by Marie Antoinette's daughter, on one of whose legs a sore place 
has appeared. Necessary to call in La Gaze, the surgeon. He was 
summoned by order. At half-past seven Brunier came again with La Gaze. 
The other leg is also threatened. Prescriptions sent to Robert, the 
prisoners' chemist." — (Pa/piers du Temple.) 

■ 115 I % 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

members of the Commune there were several good fellows, 
and we made it our business to see that they joined us in our 
duties at the Temple. For several months the custom of 
drawing lots had been abandoned. 

M. Brunier's emotion, on seeing those who were so dear to 
him, was very great. It was all he could do to speak. The 
sore foot was examined without delay, and a course of treat- 
ment prescribed that was carefully carried out. I remember 
a particular kind of viper broth that was brought in every 
evening by a nice civil lad called Robert. The physician and 
surgeon continued their visits without being interfered with, 
but they made a rule of preserving absolute silence when they 
were not sure of the commissioners who were watching their 
proceedings. 

Clery, who was still in the Temple,^ gave me the table- 
cloth that had been used for Louis XVI.'s Communion on the 
morning of the 21st January. I took it to Juvisy, and gave 
it into the charge of Clery's wife, whom I had met sometimes 
in the town when she came to see her husband and bring him 
news. She was always accompanied by a friend, who shared 
her devotion for the royal family, and more than once ran 
into danger in trying to be useful to them. 

In the meantime Toulan''s mind was not inactive. He 
conceived the idea of helping the royal family to escape from 
the Temple, and kept me informed of his schemes from the 
very first. We met at my house, and with us were M. le 

Chevalier de Jar ^ and a clerk from Toulan's office, whose 

name, I think, was Guy ,^ a zealous royalist, whose help 

was necessary to us, and upon whose fidelity we could rely. 

^ Cl^ry only left the Tower in February. 

'^ Francois Augustin Remi P^lisson de Jarjayes, born at Grenoble on the 
24th October, 1745, had been a colonel on the general staff since 1779. He 
had married one of the twelve first women-of-the-bedchamber of the 
Queen, Emilie de Laborde. Louis XVI. in 1791 made him a brigadier- 
general. On the 10th August Jarjayes stood by the King, whom he 
followed to the Feuillants, and it was there that he received a definite 
order from the royal family not to leave Paris. — (See Uii Complot sotis la 
Terreur, by Paul Gaulot. ) 

^ M. Paul Gaulot thinks that Guy was none other than a man called 
Ricard, the husband of a cousin of Lepitre. In Un Complot sous la Terreur 
there are some interesting details about these minor characters in the 
tragedy of the Temple. 

116 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

This was the plan we fixed upon for the escape : a plan 
whose execution would have been dangerous, but none the 
less quite possible. 

We had procured some men's clothes for the Queen and 
Madame Elizabeth, and we brought them in one by one, 
either in our pockets or on our persons, concealed under our 
pelisses. We also obtained two wadded cloaks, to hide their 
figures from too close a scrutiny, and to make their gait less 
noticeable. Moreover, we provided them with two hats 
made on purpose for them, and added to them the scarves 
and tickets of admission that were used by commissioners of 
the Commune. 

The difficulties in the way of removing Madame Roy ale and 
her brother from the Tower seemed to be greater. But we 
thought of a way of doing so. Every evening the man whose 
office it was to clean the lamps within the building, as well as 
those outside, came to light up the Tower, accompanied by 
two children who helped him in his work. He came in at 
half-past five, and long before seven o'clock he had left the 
Temple. 

We examined the clothes of the two children with sreat 
care, and saw that similar ones were prepared for the young 
King and his sister. Above a light undergarment were the 
dirty trousers and the coarse jacket called a carmagnole ; 
thick shoes were added, with an old peruke and a shabby hat 
to hide the hair ; while the hands and face were to be in a 
proper state to complete the illusion. This disguise was to 
be donned in the turret next the Queen's room, which Tison 
and his wife never entered, and we meant to leave the Tower 
in the following way. 

It was arranged that Toulan was to take advantage of the 
Tisons' weakness for Spanish snuif, which he had lavished 
upon them while he was in the Temple, and was to give them 
some of it at a quarter to seven, mixed with so strong a nar- 
cotic that they would instantly fall into a profound sleep, 
from which they would not be awakened till seven or eight 
hours later, though they would not be in the least injured by 
it. This plan, innocent as it was, did not please any of us, but 
we had no choice : we should have been obliged to adopt it. 

117 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE! 

The Queen was to leave a note behind her, exonerating 
these two people ; and then, dressed like a man, with the 
municipal scarf round her, was to pass out of the building 
escorted by myself. We had nothing to fear from the Temple 
guard ; for if we had shown our cards of admission, even from 
a distance, the sentries would have been quite satisfied, and 
the sight of our scarves would obviate any suspicion. When 
we were out of the Temple we should have gone to the Rue 

de la Corderie, where M. de Jarj was to wait for us. A few 

minutes after seven, when the sentries at the Tower had been 
relieved, Guy, the clerk I mentioned before, armed with a card 
of admission such as was used by the workmen employed in 
the Tower, was to knock at the Queen's door with his tin box 
under his arm, and Toulan, scolding him for not seeing to the 
lamps himself, was to hand the children over to him. He 
would have taken them out with him, and on the way to the 
trysting-place would have rid them of their clumsy garments. 
Soon, Madame Elizabeth, in a similar disguise to the Queen's, 
would have joined us with Toulan, and we should instantly 
have started away. 

Our arrangements were such that no one could have started 
to pursue us until five hours after our departure. We had 
made most careful calculations. In the first place, no one in 
the Tower ever went upstairs till nine o'clock in the evening, 
when the table was laid and the supper served. The Queen 
would have asked that supper might be at half-past nine that 
evening. To knock repeatedly, feeling more and more sur- 
prised that the door was not opened ; to question the sentinel, 
who, having been relieved at nine o'clock, would know nothing 
of what had occurred ; to go down to the Council Room and 
inform the other members of the strange circumstances ; to go 
upstairs again with them and knock anew, and summon the 
sentries who had gone off guard and obtain vague information 
from them ; to send for a locksmith to open the doors, the 
keys of which we should have left inside ; to get them opened 
at last with the greatest difficulty, for one of these doors was 
of oak and was covered with large nails, and the other was of 
iron, and both of them had locks that entailed considerable 
excavations in the solid wall if they were not turned in the 

118 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

usual way ; to look into all the rooms and turrets ; to shake 
Tison and his wife violently without succeeding in waking 
them ; to go down again to the Council Room ; to draw up a 
report and take it to the Council of the Commune, which, 
even if it had not broken up, would have lost time in fruitless 
discussions ; to send messengers to the police and the Mayor, 
and to the committees of the Convention, asking what mea- 
sures should be taken : — all these things would have caused so 
much delay as to give us a chance of escaping successfully. 
Our passports would have been perfectly correct, for I was 
then president of the committee, and should have drawn them 
up myself. We should therefore have had no anxiety on the 
journey as long as the distance between us and our pursuers 
remained undiminished.^ 

We had discussed this project on several occasions. On 
one essential point opinions were divided. The Queen wished 
us to travel separately, but at a short distance from each 
other. She wished us to have three cabriolets, in one of which 
she would have been with her son and M. de Jar — , while 
Toulan was with Madame Elizabeth, and I with Madame 
Royale. I combated this idea for a long time, pointing out 
that three carriages would be more noticeable than one in the 
little towns or villages through which we passed, and that if 
an accident should happen to one of them the two others 
would be obliged to wait and would rouse suspicion. If on 
the other hand they continued their journey there might be 
some fear of their losing the way, or the delay might lead one 
party into danger and expose the others to regrets that would 
be more terrible even than the danger. But the Queen met 
this by saying that a berline laden with six people (for Toulan 
would have hurried forward on horseback), and drawn by six 

^ It was in 1817 that Lepitre wrote so enthusiastically of the details in 
the plan of escape : but he omits to say that in 1793 he was mvioh colder 
and more calculating in his view of the aflEair. It was his pusillanimity 
that wrecked the plot : he refused to supply passports, although he was the 
president of the commission that provided them. We must add, too, that 
Lepitre, who poses here as a hero, had insisted that the Queen should 
secure him against the material loss that would result to him from the 
escape of the prisoners. In a word, he expected to be paid, and Jarjayes 
undertook to satisfy him out of the remnants of his own fortune, which 
was already much impaired. 

119 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

horses, M'ould be no less noticeable ; and that, since we should 
be obliged to change horses at every posting-house, we should 
be exposed to the curiosity of the inhabitants and still more 
to the indiscretion of the postillions. She pointed to the 
unlucky expedition to Varennes undertaken in very different 
circumstances. Three light carriages would only require one 
horse apiece, and we should surely be able to find suitable 
relays at various points of our journey without having recourse 
to posting-houses. In this way we should secure better 
horses, and should have to change them less often. Every- 
thing — economy of time, greater security, and the possibility 
of our all travelling in two carriages in case of an accident — 
seemed to point to the adoption of the plan proposed by the 
Queen. Being alone in my opinion, I yielded to the majority ; 
but I confess it was with much trepidation that I thought 
of the moment when the sacred charge for which I was 
to be responsible should be confided to my care. I should 
have been almost ready to say, like iEneas when he fled 
from Troy : 

" Et moi qui tant de fois avait vu sans terreur 
Et les bataillons grecs et le glaive homicide, 
Une ombre m'epouvante, un souffle m'intimide ; 
Je n'ose respire r, je tremble au moindre bruit, 
Et pour ce que je porte et pour ce qvii me suit." 

{Delille's translation of Virgil.) 

It was not till the end of February that the goal of our 
journey was determined upon. La Vendee was now in revolt, 
and we might have found a refuge there. This was thought 
of at first, but the distance seemed too great and the 
difficulties too numerous. It seemed easier to reach the coast 
of Normandy, and to secure some means of crossing to 

England. M. Jarj undertook to provide for everything. 

We could count entirely upon his ability and his unwearied 
zeal ; he had money enough for the journey ; and in whatever 
direction the royal family had chosen to travel they would 
have found the love and courage of more than one faithful 
subject ready to facilitate their escape by every necessary 
means. 

It may easily be imagined that this scheme demanded 

120 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

various modifications. But nevertheless it was sufficiently 
well thought out to give rise to hopes of success. 

All was arranged for the carrying out of this plan in the 
early days of March, when a rising, purposely organised, 
resulted in the Parisian merchants being robbed of their 
sugar and coffee, and led to the passing of a motiveless 
decree, to the effect that the barriers were to be closed and 
passports were to be suspended. ^ We returned to the Temple 
dismayed by this measure, but quite resolved to take advan- 
tage of the first favourable moment. 

I have said nothing of the song composed for the young 
King, after the death of his august father. Madame Clery, 
who was a skilful performer on the harpsichord and harp, 
wrote the music for it. I took it to the Temple and pre- 
sented it to the Queen ; and when I returned a week later 
her Majesty took me into Madame Elizabeth''s room, where 
the young prince sang the song to Madame Royale's accom- 
paniment. Our eyes filled with tears, and for a long time we 
stood there sadly, without speaking. Here are the verses — 
but the scene is indescribable. 

The daughter of Louis XVI. sat at the harpsichord, and 

beside her was her mother with her son in her arms, trying, 

in spite of the tears that streamed from her eyes, to direct 

hei\children''s playing and singing. Madame Elizabeth stood 

beside her sister and mingled her sighs with the sad tones of 

her royal nephew's voice. Never will this picture be effaced 

from my memory. 

La Piete Filialb. 

Et quoi ! tu pleures, 6 ma m^re ! 
Dans tes regards fixes sur moi 
Se peignent I'amour et I'efifroi ; 
J'y vois ton ame tout entiere. 
Des maux que ton fils k soufferts, 
Pourquoi te retracer I'image ? 
Lorsque ma mere les partage, 
Puis-je me plaindre de mes fers ? 

^ This is not true. The barriers were not closed, and the commission 
that provided passports was merely warned to be circumspect in supplying 
them. A few lines further back Lepitre makes another mistake. It was 
not at the end of February, but only on the 10th March that the first out- 
breaks occurred in Brittany and La Vendee, and the news only reached 
Paris about the 17th. 

121 



LAST DAYS OF MAUIE ANTOINETTE 

Des fers ! 6 Louis, ton courage 
Les ennoblit en les portant. 
Ton fils n'a plus, en cet instant, 
Que tes vertus pour heritage. 
Trone, palais, pouvoir, grandeur, 
Tout a f ui pour moi sur la terre ; 
Mais je suis aupres de ma m^re, 
Je connais encore le bonheur. 

Un jour, peut-etre .... I'esp^rance 
Doit etre permise au malheur ; 
Un jour, en faisant son bonheur, 
Je me vengerai de la France. 
Un Dieu favorable a ton fils 
Bient6t calmera la tempete ; 
L'Orage qui courbe leur tete 
Ne d6truira jamais les Lys. 

Helas ! si du poids de nos chaines 
Le ciel daigne nous affranchir, 
Nos c(»urs doubleront leur plaisir 
Par le souvenir de nos peines. 
Ton fils, plus heureux qu'aujourd'hui, 
Saura, dissipant tes alarmes, 
Effacer la trace des larmes 
Qu'en ces lieux tu versas pour lui. 

A Madame ^^lizabeth. 

Et toi, dont les soins, la tendresse 
Ont adouci tant de malheurs, 
Ta recompense est dans les cceurs 
Que tu formas a la Sagesse. 
Ah ! Souviens-toi des derniers voeux 
Qu'en mourant exprima ton fr^re ! 
Reste toujours pres de ma mere, 
Et ses enfants en auront deux.^ 

It was on the 7th March that I received from the royal 
family a most precious reward for my zeal and devotion. 
The Queen and Madame Elizabeth were good enough to cut 
off little locks of their hair, which they gave me, together 
with some of Madame's and of the young prince's. The same 
favour had been granted to Toulan, who had the hair arranged 

^ Another royalist song, composed before Louis XVI. 's death, had an 
enormous success, "a European vogue," during the early days of 1793. 
Everyone knows the verses : " mon peuple . . . que vous ai-je done 
fait ? " that were sung to the air of Pauvre Jacques. This song was seen 
by the King, who derived some temporary consolation from it during his 
last days, and perhaps some encouragement in his last illusions. For a 
long time it was attributed to Ulpien Hennet, son of the last provost of 
Maubeuge, but it was really by his brother, a captain in the Engineers and 
an 6migr6. — (Z. Pierart, Eecherches historiques sur Maubeuge, 1851.) 

122 




MADAME ELIZABETH. 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OE LEPlTHE 

in a device of sheaves, upon a box. One of the sheaves was 
reversed, the four others upright, and with them was this 
motto : Tutto per loro — " All for them.*" 

I had a ring made for myself, in which the hair of each 
person was arranged separately. It has upon it this motto, 
which was suggested to me by her Majesty : Poco ama cKil 
morir teme — " He loves little who fears to die." At the back 
are these words : The hair enclosed in this ring- was given on 
the 1th March, "QS, to J.-Fr. Lepitre by the w'^e, the children, 
and the sister of Louis de Bourbon, King of France.^ A 
gold plate, which may be raised at will, covers the inscrip- 
tion. 

I have worn this ring constantly, and it is the only 
ornament that has ever been upon my finger. What diamond 
could be so precious ? I had already received from Madame 
Elizabeth another present, which I have always kept 
religiously. With a view to facilitating the interchange of 
messages, and at the same time supplying them with some 
occupation, the princesses had asked us for knitting-needles 
and balls of cotton. The latter might serve as hiding-places 
for notes, as similar balls had served previously, when the 
princesses were in the habit of doing embroidery. The latter 
kind of needlework had been forbidden to them, on the 
ground that their embroidery designs concealed a correspon- 
dence in hieroglyphics. Follies of this kind provoke a 
pitying smile. 

We had faithfully promised to grant this request for 
cotton and needles, but that evening our minds were full of 
many important matters of various kinds, and our conversa- 
tion had been so interesting, that in our elation and happiness 
at having spent more than five hours with the princesses 
without being interrupted by any intruders, and at being 
granted, when we left them, the honour of kissing the young 
King, we entirely forgot our promises, and left the Temple 
without mentioning the subject to those of our colleagues 
who were remaining there. 

^ The actual inscription was as follows : Les cheveux renferm4s dans cette 
iague ont ite doniids, le 7 m. 93, a J. -Fr. Lep, par r4p. les enf. et la S. de L, 
de B., Eoi de Fr. — [Translator's note.) 

123 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

When, in the course of the following week, we went up to 
the Queen's room, what was our surprise when the princesses 
came forward to greet us with a stiff kind of manner that we 
had never seen in them before, and thanked us ironically for 
having been so energetic in keeping our word to them ! 

We were racking our brains to understand them, when 
they held out their hands, which they had been hiding behind 
their backs, and showed us the knitting on which they were 
employed. " Ah, messieurs,"" said Madame Elizabeth, " so 
you really wish to condemn us to miserable inactivity ! But 
everyone is not like you, and worthy M. Paffe (a hosier and 
municipal officer) has been more obliging than you." And it 
was true that this good fellow, in accordance with the 
princesses'* request, had sent to his shop for knitting 
materials, and we found the cotton and needles figuring in 
the Temple registers. We were profuse in our excuses and 
were forgiven. 

Madame Elizabeth had begun to knit what she called a 
stocking : but when she asked my advice about her work I 
could not suppress a smile in view of the size of this so-called 
stocking, I told her it was probably a cap that she had 
meant to make. " Very well, then, a cap it is ! " she answered, 
" and it shall be for you." She finished it the same day and 
gave it to me just as we were going away, with strict injunc- 
tions to give to the poor the sum that a cap would be likely 
to cost at that time, I obeyed scrupulously, and it cost me 
the modest sum of 10 francs in assignats. 

This shows how the princess, even in her jokes, found a 
means of influencing others to do good. I have never seen a 
character in which the highest degree of genuine piety was 
combined with so much gentleness. Her tenderness for the 
children of her august brother was the tenderness of a mother. 
What efforts she made to help the Queen in educating the 
young prince and Madame ! For in spite of the lack of 
necessary aids, their education was not neglected and the 
resources of the two princesses were such that they were 
able to a great extent to supply the lack of external means. 
Not a moment was ever wasted : even games were turned to 
good account. It was impossible not to be touched by the 

124 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

sight of the young King — barely eight years old — bending 
over his little table, reading the History of France with the 
greatest attention, then repeating what he had read, and 
listening eagerly to the observations of his mother or aunt. 
The most savage among the commissioners could not alto- 
gether restrain their emotion, though it is true they reproached 
themselves for it later on. 

The month of March was slipping by, and yet we had not 
been sent to the Temple. We noticed in the Council that 
we were regarded with ill-concealed distrust ; and it was made 
plain to us by half-uttered rumours and vague suggestions 
that we had better be on, our guard. Toulan's imprudence 
had roused suspicion. He had shown to two clerks in his 
office a gold box, which he said had been given to him by the 
Queen. I do not know if he had actually been given a gold 
box : I never saw it ; and he only once mentioned it to me ; 
but what is quite certain is this : that the two clerks denounced 
him to Hebert, and that the latter took no notice of the 
denunciation at the time, but that it ultimately led to Toulan 
being condemned to death. 

I, too, had drawn suspicion upon myself by a word that I 
had let drop, and that one of my colleagues had observed. I 
was with the royal family on the roof of the Tower, where 
they were sometimes allowed to sit. I had lifted the young 
prince in my arms that he might see the streets in the neigh- 
bourhood of the Temple, where a number of people had 
collected and were gazing at the Tower. In the garden were 
the sentries, whose outward appearance gave every indication 
of misery and destitution. It was very cold, and I could not 
help saying : " How can they allow the poor sansculottes to 
be exposed like that to the inclemencies of the weather .'' " 
Sansculottes was at that time the popular name for such 
people, but I was accused of using it disdainfully, though I 
can swear I had merely given expression to a feeling of 
genuine pity. It was said that the Queen, grasping my 
meaning, had looked at them contemptuously and vindic- 
tively. Finally, I was threatened with a denunciation to the 
Commune. I was not, however, publicly accused, for the 
Sieur Landr — did not carry out his threat; but I saw 

125 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

very plainly that the story was known and I was looked at 
askance. 

Well, on the 16th March we returned to the Temple. 
We made nearly all the necessary arrangements, but we 
adjourned the execution of our project till our next visit, 
though we had no idea when that might occur. Suddenly, 
on the 26th, when the commissioners to the Temple were 
about to be chosen, a man called Arthur rose to speak, and 
demanded that, in accordance with the old regulation, certain 
members whom he would name should be dealt with by the 
scrutin epuratoire} 

" This measure," he cried, " is all the more necessary 
because you have in your midst members who are betraying 
you. I denounce in particular L. and Toulan : no sooner do 
these commissioners arrive at the Tower than, without caring 
to sup with their colleagues, they hurry up to Marie Antoin- 
ette. I have seen L. conversing mysteriously with her ; and 
when he saw me he betrayed himself by the flush that over- 
spread his face. Yes, L. is a false friend," went on Lechenard, 
the tailor of whom I have spoken before ; " he is the favourite 
of the prisoners ; whereas they smile at him and make him 
civil speeches, they hardly look at me, the poor republican." 
As for Toulan, he was chiefly accused of taking pains to make 
the Queen and her family laugh, by jokes that were degrad- 
ing to the dignity of a magistrate who represented the 
people. 

I was much afraid there might be some allusion to the 
gold box, and to my reflection on the Temple sentries ; but 
nothing was said on the subject, and our courage rose. 

Toulan defended himself by joking about his jokes, and 
ended by saying resolutely that he was not the judge of the 
prisoners confided to his care, and that his business was 
merely to do his duty to the best of his ability, without 
trying to torment them. I confined myself to denying the 
truth of the alleged facts, adding that I was far from deserving 
the smile and civilities that Citizen Lechenard took so greatly 
to heart, but that nevertheless I did not think it necessary, 

^ The procedure for getting rid of undesirable members. — [Translator's 
note. ) 

126 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

in the fulfilment of my duties, to exhibit a repulsive coarse- 
ness that was foreign to my habits and to my character. 

Hebert, while admitting the futility of these denunciations, 
complained of the indiscretion of the members who were 
unable to defend themselves against the arts of " that 
family," and gave them information that they ought not to 
have. He demanded the scrutin epuratoire, and asked that 
our names might be struck off the list of those who were to 
be sent to the Temple. 

The day after I was thus denounced for the first time I went 
to see La Chaste Suzanne at the Vaudeville Theatre. It is 
well known that this play gave rise to various scenes of 
violence, by its thinly-veiled allusions, and that, though it 
was approved of by people of sound views, it was furiously 
attacked by the Jacobins.^ In this play occurred the words 
that had already been uttered in the rostrum of the Con- 
vention : ^ " You are the prosecutors ; you cannot be the 
judge." 

Everyone wanted to see La Chaste Suzanne, and I had great 
difficulty in securing a place in the pit-boxes. In front of 
me were two well-dressed ladies, with their husbands sitting 
behind them. 

They paid no attention to me, and expressed their opinion 
without restraint during the performance of the new play. 
All went well until the interval between the acts ; but then a 
man in the pit looked into the box and said, in a fairly loud 
voice : " There is a municipal officer in that box." 

I saw the four people in front of me grow pale. The 
women, especially, seemed on the point of fainting. 

It was impossible for them to leave the box. 

As they recalled their conversation they had visions of 
themselves being arrested, imprisoned, and perhaps denounced. 

1 La Chaste Suzaime was not the only play that created scenes of this 
kind. In the TMdtre du Lycie the story of Marie Antoinette and her 
son, and their imprisonment in the Temple, was put on the boards as a 
drama entitled Adele de Sacy. The Temple Tower was represented in 
such a way that no one could fail to recognise it, and the climax of the 
play was not merely the escape of the prisoners, but their victory over 
their enemies. — (See Louis Blanc, Histoire de la R6volution, Book X., 
chap. vii. ) 

^ By M. Lanjuinais. — {Note by Lepitre.) 

127 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

I hastened to calm their fears. " Do not disturb yourselves, 
mesdames,'" I said to them ; " there are men in the municipal 
body who think as you do, and I am of their number. Have 
you read the paper this morning ? " " Yes, monsieur." " Well, 
I am one of the two members of the Commune who were 
denounced yesterday for their conduct at the Temple." At 
these words their courage partly returned ; we entered into 
conversation, and I found that their sentiments were abso- 
lutely in accord with mine. They confessed to me that they 
would never have expected to find a member of the Commune 
in a velvet coat, and that, when I was recognised, they had 
thought themselves in real danger. It is certain that Chau- 
mette, or anyone of that stamp, would not have wasted 
so fine an opportunity. 

We were waiting, Toulan and I, for the Council to forget 
our misadventure. On Easter Day, as there were only a few 
members present, and these seemed not at all anxious to be 
shut up in the Temple, we got one of our colleagues to propose 
us. We had been accepted, and were actually preparing to 
start, when the cruel Lechenard arrived on the scene and had 
our nomination rescinded. We saw that hope was entirely fled. 
A permanent municipality was about to be established. 
Toulan had not been re-elected; and although I had been 
nominated, it was decided that my election was to depend on 
the scrutin epuratoire of the forty-eight sections, and I was 
rejected by thirty-two. It was in vain that the people of my 
own section persisted in their choice, in vain that they posted 
placards in Paris to vindicate the three members they had 
chosen and supported ; there was nothing for it but to yield, 
lest we should be involved in a dangerous struggle that would 
only end upon the scaffbld. I had already resolved to quit 
my useless office when a fresh storm broke over Toulan's head 
and mine. There were indeed three or four municipal officers 
involved in the affair. 

Some commissioners from the Commune had gone to the 
Temple and instituted a minute inquiry there. By their 
threats they had frightened Tison's wife into confirming her 
husband's depositions, and she declared us to be agents of the 
royal family. " Through us they were informed of all that 

128 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

took place ; we supplied them with newspapers ; we facilitated 
their correspondence by bringing them letters and taking 
charge of the answers ; we were constantly in the Queen's 
room, sitting with the prisoners and conversing freely with 
them." In short she told everything she could possibly have 
seen, and everything she suspected. 

I was not present when the depositions were read aloud to 
the Commune. 1 On the following day at ten o'clock, when 
I was going out with my pupils, a woman stopped me, stared 
at me in surprise, and seemed hardly to believe her eyes. 
" What ! " she said, " you are still at liberty ! But yes- 
terday evening, at eleven o'clock, an order was made out to 
arrest you and put seals on your property. I was present 
when you were denounced to the Commune. Take advantage 
of my warning, and see to your aiFairs." I returned home at 
once and burnt my notes, and more particularly my song, for 
I was sure I should be arrested very shortly. 

At midday the commissioner of police arrived at my 
house, sealed up my papers, and retired without ordering me 
to follow him, or mentioning the warrant for my arrest. 
The next day I heard the street-criers shouting out that 
I was confined in the Abbaye with my accomplices, and that 
we were soon to be tried. One of these criers, whose news- 
paper I bought, had the effrontery to maintain to my face 

1 Sitting of the Commune of April 20, 1793. — "Louis Roux read a 
document which had been drawn up in the Temple in the presence of the 
Mayor, the Procureur of the Commune, and the commissioners on duty, 
and contained two depositions, one by Tison, employed in the Temple, 
and the other by Anne Victoire Baudet, wife of Tison, also employed in 
the Temple. It follows from these two depositions that certain members 
of the Council, Toulan, Lepitre, Brunod, Moelle, and Vincent, the doctor, 
and the building contractor at the Temple, are suspected of having had 
secret conferences with the prisoners of the Temple, of supplying them with 
sealing-wax, wafers, pencils, and paper, and finally of having assisted in 
the carrying-on of secret correspondence." — (Moniteur of April 23, 1793.) 

Another report, of the 29th April, mentions that "sealing-wax, wafers, 
and a pencil were discovered on the 20th in the possession of the 
prisoners : an indication that they were carrying on correspondence with 
the outer world. Property of the accused, and of Brunier, Temple 
physician, placed under seal. Warrant issued against Citoyenne S6rent, 
formerly lady of the bedchamber to Elizabeth. Elizabeth's room searched. 
The officer charged with the carrying-out of criminal judgments, and the 
hatter Dumont, questioned with regard to a hat found in a box belonging 
to Louis Capet's sister." — (See Papiers du Temple, by M. de la Morinerie ; 
Nouvelle Revue, 1st April, 1884.) 

129 K 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

that this was true, and that the L. in question must be in 
prison, since the fact was stated in black and white. 

I wrote to the Procureur of the Commune, begging him 
to forbid the journalists to incarcerate people on their own 
authority, 

A short time after denouncing us the woman Tison went 
off her head. She went into the Queen's room, they say, and, 
kneeling before her, implored her forgiveness for having basely 
slandered her and for having caused the downfall of blameless 
men, whom she, Madame Tison, had been forced to denounce. 
The Queen in vain sought to calm her ; the wretched woman 
was quite mad, and was removed to an asylum, where she 
shortly afterwards died.^ 

It was at this time that the Commune of Paris, prompted 
by the Committee of the Convention, drew up an address 
demanding the trial of the deputies from the Gironde and 
of several others. This address was drawn up in secret, and, 
without any notice being given, the attendance-sheet was 
replaced on the table by another sheet of paper with the 
following heading : Names of those who subscribe to the 
Address against the Girondists^ etc. Being rather late in 
arriving at the Council, I wrote my signature on this sheet 
of paper without looking at the heading ; but being told of 
the facts by my neighbour I left my seat at once and scratched 
out my signature. On the following day the list was read, 
and an erased name was found. 

After a long examination it was discovered to be mine. 
Great excitement and much abuse followed. Having been 
told of the aifair, I wrote on the following day to the Council 
to state my reasons, saying that it was against my principles 
to subscribe to addresses of that kind, especially when I knew 
nothing about them. 

This letter gave rise to the most violent discussions, and 
one of the substitutes of the Procureur of the Commune, who 
quite recently played rather an important role,^ censured me 
as a coward and a liar. Yet it must be confessed that it 
required some courage to stand alone, and refuse to behave 
like everyone else ; and I had told the exact truth. 

1 She did not die there (see note, p. 74). ^ Pierre rran9ois Real. 

130 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

From that moment I returned no more to the Council. 
The seals were removed from my papers, and I was given a 
certificate to the effect that nothing suspicious had been found 
in my house. 

I lived quietly enough till the time when the Queen was 
removed from the Temple. I foresaw the fresh crime that 
the scoundrels were meditating, and did not hide from myself 
that I had good reason to fear on my own account. I knew 
too how great was the difference between the way the Temple 
prisoners were treated now and the way they had been 
treated in our time ; the coarse food that had replaced their 
former meals ; the condition to which they were reduced, 
having no one to wait upon them ! Everything I heard made 
my heart ache, and I was destined to suffer worse things yet. 

On the 7th ^October, while I was having supper with my 
wife, I said to her : " If I were to be put in prison I should 
try to be taken to Sainte Pelagic, for there at all events I 
should find people I knew, and should be less bored than in 
any other prison." What was my surprise when at six 
o'clock on the morning of the 8th I heard a knock at my 
door, and a member of the revolutionary committee informed 
me that his orders were to take me to Sainte Pelagie, where 
I was to be in close confinement ! The last clause was not at 
all to my taste. All my possessions were sealed up and then 
I was taken off to my destination in a carriage. I was to be 
cut off from everyone both within and without the prison : 
and to be allowed neither letters nor papers. What a 
situation to be placed in ! But it is not every gaoler who is 
incorruptible, when it is possible to yield without any real 
failure in duty ; and mine looked as if he would be quite 
willing to be bribed, for I have a shewd suspicion, judging 
from the sequel, that his orders were not as severe as they 
seemed, and that my worthy friend, while boasting of his 
good nature, knew very well that it would do him no harm. 
I occupied a cell that measured six feet in width, by seven in 
length, for which I paid twenty-five francs a month. My 
furniture comprised my bed, — which had been brought here 
by my orders, — a table and a chair. I gave ten francs a 
month to the man who looked after my room. Not even the 

131 K 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

smallest service was gratuitous. My breakfast and dinner 
were brought to me from my own house. 

My servant bribed the gaoler downstairs, and I bribed him 
upstairs. The excellent creature was thus paid twice over. 
In return, he saw that I received everything that was sent to 
me ; newspapers, under the vine leaves that covered my 
basket ; letters, in the body of a cold chicken, or in a pie, or 
in my linen. From time to time I wrung some information 
out of him. He was especially communicative under the 
influence of my wine. 

He told me which were the best-known prisoners, and 
which were the spies I ought to distrust. Sometimes he let 
me out for five or six minutes into the corridors, where I met 
old friends imprisoned as "suspects." Indeed, I owed him 
an endless number of small obligations, which mitigated the 
discomforts of my position. From my narrow window I 
could see Mesdames Rancourt, Fleury, Joly, Petit, Lachas- 
saigne, Suin, and Devienne, actresses from the Theatre 
Francais, who were allowed the precious privilege of walking 
about in the garden. 

On the 14th October I was summoned as a witness in the 
Queen's trial. Verily that was a day of mourning, and a day 
of iniquity ! I was present during that horrible enquiry, or 
rather that scene of perfidy and villainy. With what grand 
dignity, and with what an air of calm nobility, the wife of 
Louis XVI. gave her answers ! The faces of all the spectators 
who had any good feeling were full of sadness, but there 
was fury in the eyes of a crowd of men and women who had 
been brought to the hall purposely ; though more than once 
this fury yielded for the moment to pity and admiration. 

The prosecutors and judges did not at all succeed in hiding 
the rage that inspired them, and the irrepressible confusion 
with which the Queen's noble firmness covered them. The 
indictment was a mere tissue of absurdities and calumnies. 
Heberfs horrible imputation made me shudder. Everyone 
was scandalised by this monster's eiFrontery ; and everyone's 
heart was profoundly touched by those sublime words of the 
insulted mother : "I appeal to every mother here : is there 
one of them who believes in the possibility of such a crime ? " 

132 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF LEPITRE 

There was absolutely nothing in the depositions of the 
witnesses, who were called in great numbers with a view to 
concealing their futility. We figured in the affair as having 
been corrupted by the Queen's promises, and having conspired 
with her against the security of the State. We were in- 
formed that we should shortly suffer the same fate. This noble 
Princess must have died in the sad certainty that we should 
not survive her. 

When the court temporarily rose we went down to the 
porter's lodge. I found M. Bailly there, in a state of great 
depression. We spoke little, for we were observed. In a 
corner of the office sat Manuel, with a pale face and a 
gloomy expression, saying nothing to anyone. He was 
evidently a prey to remorse. I was confronted with the 
Queen somewhat late, and the questions put to me were 
insignificant. I confined myself to negatives, and the Queen 
did the same. 

I was shown some coins, and the portraits in miniature of 
two princesses who had been friends of the Queen. I 
professed not to recognise them though her Majesty had 
shown them to me several times. Great stress was laid upon 
our secret conferences, and upon the fact that a man had been 
hired to cry the news in the streets. I denied everything, 
and this interrogatory, which lasted for twelve minutes, was 
deemed sufficient. I was taken back to Sainte Pelagie, to 
wait till the evidence for our trial was prepared. 

The end of Lepitre's Recollections has no relation to the 
imprisonment of Marie Antoinette. On the 8th November he 
was tried, together with eight other municipal officers who were 
all accused of having an understanding with the Widow Capet. 
But the man who was most guilty, Rougeville, had fled. Toulan 
also had escaped and was living at Bordeaux under a false 
name ; it was not till later that he was taken and condemned 
to death. As a matter of fact the Commune of Paris did not 
at all like the probity and civic virtue of its members to be 
called in question before the revolutionary tribunal : and for 
these reasons, combined with others, perhaps, the accused were 
acquitted, with the exception of Michonis, who was condemned 
to remain in prison till the peace, and was executed later. 

133 



EXTRACTS FROM 

THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE^ 



MEMBER OF THE COMMUNE 



It was on the 5th December, 1792, that I went to the 
Temple for the first time, as a commissioner from the Com- 
mune. I had just been nominated a member of the provi- 
sional municipality, which replaced that of August 10th. I 
arrived at the Temple with three other commissioners a 
little after ten o''clock in the evening, and was to be relieved, 
with them, two days later, at the same hour. The 
General Council of the Commune nominated, during its 
evening sitting, the members upon whom this duty was to 
devolve, and renewed them every evening, four at a time. 
At this time they were eight in number, of whom two, 
chosen by lot, were attached, one to the King's room and 
one to that of the princesses. They remained there for 
twenty-four hours, beginning from the day of their arrival. A 
few days later their number in each room Avas doubled.^ On 
the following day they formed part of the Temple Council, 
which was composed of the surplus of the commissioners 
on duty. 

This Council was responsible for all active measures that 
were adopted, as well as for the custody of the prisoners. 

1 Moelle (Claud Antoine Francois) was a clerk in the Gaisse d' Escompte, 
No. 498, Rue de Buffaut. {National Almanack, 1793.) 

He was arrested at the same time as Lepitre, Michonis, Dang6, &c., and 
accused, as they were, of having an understanding with the Widow Capet. 
Moelle was acquitted on the 19th November, 1793. 

^ It is quite true that the new municipality doubled the prisoners' 
guard on December 11th. The Council Room of the Temple was at the same 
time transferred to the ground floor of the Tower, and many additional 
precautions were taken. These measures were on account of the King's 
trial. (See Fapiers du Temple. ) 

134 



THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE 

These measures were entered daily in a register, in the form 
of resolutions, and the entries signed by all the commissioners. 
Everything connected with the requests of the royal family, 
which were always made in writing, was also signed by Clery. 
With this same Council were deposited the keys of the seven 
barriers between the foot of the stairs of the Great Tower 
and the platform at the top, as well as those of the outer 
doors of the various rooms, which were never opened for the 
convenience of the prisoners or their servants, except when 
the commissioners on duty gave a signal by means of a bell 
that rang in the Council Room. 

Members of this Council, moreover, entered the dining- 
room with every meal. The meals were prepared in the old 
kitchens of the Grand Priory,^ and all their ingredients were 
subjected to the most rigorous tests. Three men-servants, 
called Turgy, Chretien and Marchand, were charged with 
carrying the food to the Tower, and they waited in the outer 
room till the end of the meal, the remains of which were 
appropriated by Clery, and by a man and his wife called 
Tison, who ate together after the King''s death. Before that 
Clery had shared the meals of the commissioners. Everything 
was taken back to the kitchens with similar precautions, after 
having being examined by the commissioners, who were 
particularly careful in scrutinising the table-linen, and every- 
thing that had been used by the royal family. The men- 
servants were also expected, under the supervision of the 
commissioners, to carry the wood for the King's fire and 
those of the princesses from the left-hand turret where it 
was stored, which opened into the dining-room, to the room 
occupied by Tison and his wife. These two were employed 
in waiting on the princesses; but at the same time they spied 
upon everyone that approached the royal family, even upon 
the commissioners, some of whom they denounced, as will be 
seen in the course of this narrative. ^ 

' (See Plan A. 6.) 

'■^ Having been on guard at the Temple at the beginning of September, 
1792, and posted as a sentry in the little Tower, on the storey occupied by the 
King, I had been able, prompted by my desire to be useful to the royal 
family, to notice the arrangements of the place very carefully, and even to 
ask Tison a few questions. He remembered this when he saw me appear 
at the Temple as a municipal officer. Since then I have learnt from Clery, 

135 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Such was the established routine while I was at the 
Temple. 

When I arrived there on the 5th December, the Commune 
had not as yet decreed that two commissioners should be on 
guard on each floor, and I was chosen by lot to be attached 
to His Majesty. The King had gone to bed, and a folding- 
bed was arranged for me across the door of his room. I 
spent the night in a state of the liveliest agitation, due 
to mingled sensations of alarm, sympathy, and respect ; 
and ' so, when Clery came in at about half-past six in the 
morning to go to His Majesty's room he found me ready 
to follow him. 

Beside the King's bed was the uncurtained one of M. le 

Dauphin, whom our entrance did not awake. The King 

drew his curtain, and his first glance rested on me. As this 

was the first time he had seen me, and as, moreover, the 

Commune had just been re-constituted, it was natural that 

I should be of some interest to His Majesty, While this 

silent by-play was going on Clery lit the fire. When the 

King rose he threw a dressing-gown round him ; he sat on 

the edge of the bed while his shoes and stockings were put 

on ; and he shaved himself. Clery completed his toilet for 

him,^ and then dressed M. le Dauphin, who from the moment 

he awoke and throughout the process of dressing was full of 

the gaiety and playfulness that is so charming in children, 

which he possessed to a special degree. The King smiled 

sadly, and looked at his son with all the tenderness of a 

in whom he confided at the time, that he wished to denounce me on 
account of those early svispicions of his, but C16ry succeeded in dissuading 
him from doing so. 

1 Louis XVI. 's wardrobe in the Temple was composed of two coats that 
were exactly alike, which he wore alternately. They were of a pale reddish 
mixture, lined with fine unbleached linen ; the buttons were of filigree 
work in gilt metal. Some waistcoats of white piqu6, some breeches of 
black silky material, and a greatcoat of the colour known as cheveux de la 
Reine, constituted the rest of this wardrobe. — [Note by Moelle.) 

Louis XVI. 's wardrobe, composed of a hat, a broken tortoise-shell box, a 
little bundle of list and white ribbon, six coats — two of cloth, two of silk, 
and two of velveteen — a cloth overcoat, eight waistcoats — two of cloth, two 
of velveteen, two of silk, and two of linen — ten pair of breeches to match, 
two white dressing-gowns, a quilted satin dressing- jacket, five pairs of 
drawers, and nineteen white waistcoats, were burnt on a pile in the Place 
deGrfeve on Sunday, September 29th. 1793. — [General Council of the Com- 
mune of Paris, sitting of September 3Uth. ) 

136 



THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE 

loving father. Then, when M. le Dauphin was dressed, he 
said his prayers in the presence of his august father, who 
immediately afterwards retired, according to his custom, to 
meditate in the little turret-room that served him for an 
oratory. I then opened a book that the King had been 
reading while his hair was being dressed, and saw it was 
a volume of Vise's Mercure, a set of which formed part 
of the small collection of books that had been brought 
here^ from time to time in accordance with His Majesty's 
request. 

The whole of this opening scene made a vivid impression 
upon me. It shows how simple the King was in his private 
life, how susceptible he was to natural aifection, and how 
carefully he fulfilled his personal duties. It is impossible 
that so pure a life should have been the outcome of any but 
the most virtuous character ; and who can doubt that such 
was the character of Louis XVI. ? 

Breakfast-time arrived. This meal was usually served in 
the princesses' room, whither the King went with his son. 
For His Majesty this was merely an opportunity of being 
with his family : he stood by without eating anything. All 
the commissioners were present at this meal, at which Clery 
waited. Tison and his wife were in their own room, 
separated from the outer room in which the royal family 
were assembled, by a glazed partition, which enabled them to 
watch everything that went on. 

The Queen, Madame Elizabeth, and the young princess 
were in their ordinary morning dress, which consisted of a 
gown of white dimity. A simple cap of lawn was their 
usual headgear.^ 

^ With regard to Louis XVI.' s Library in the Temple, see the note 
on p. 137. 

^ In the Register of requests made on behalf of the King and his family 
there are some rather interesting details in connection with the dress of 
the ladies. The following requests are made in Marie Antoinette's name : 
a bodice of Jouy linen ; some cambric bodices in pink and white, and blue 
and white ; a wrapper of thin Florentine taflfetas with a coat-collar, of the 
grey known as boue de Paris, :tied in front, with a watch-pocket ; some 
white silk stockings ; a taffetas fichu to tie at the back ; a black beaver 
riding hat ; some strong shoes, either blue or grey, &c. 

Under Madame Elizabeth's name we find linen caps trimmed with 
narrow lace ; cuffs and bands of linen for cambric wrappers ; silk stock- 

137 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

They changed their morning dress for a garment of dark 
brown cloth with a pattern of little flowers, which was their 
only costume for the day, until the King's death, when the 
whole family went into mourning. 

Immediately after breakfast the King went downstairs 
with M. le Dauphin, accompanied by Clery, who retired to 
his own room, and by myself. I remained in the outer room 
where I had passed the night. His Majesty's door was 
open. 

Until the hour for going out the King spent his time 
in giving a lesson in geography to M. le Dauphin, and in 
reading to himself. While he was reading the young prince 
left his august father's room, and came into the one where 
my feelings of respect had prompted me to remain. I was 
sitting near a faience stove, which was still slightly warm 
from the fire that had been lit there in the morning but had 
been allowed to die down, as had the King's fire ' also, 
although it was fairly cold, because this was part of ^His 
Majesty's regime. 

Seated thus, I was looking at a volume of Tacitus that I 
had taken from a cupboard in the anteroom, where some 
books were kept for the King's use. The young Prince came 
to see what I was reading, and I heard him say, when he 
returned to His Majesty, " Papa, that gentleman is reading 
Tacitus." The King, about a quarter of an hour afterwards, 
took the opportunity of speaking to me on the subject of my 
reading, and was kind enough to approve of certain remarks 
I made as to my interpretation of the author's meaning. 

In the course of this first day every incident that occurred 
was a fresh interest to me, and of these the daily walk was 

ings, some white and some grey ; some grey shoes ; one pair of them to be 
Chinese sabots ; a hat like the Queen's. — (Papiers du Temple.) 

There is also in existence a List of memoranda of articles supplied to 
Louis Seize and his family between the 10th August and the 6th October, 
1792, year I. of the French Republic. In the Tower of the Temple. 

This list shows the bills of those who supplied the linen, cloth, silk, and 
stockings, and those of the milliner, hatter, and draper, the tailors, the 
dressmakers, the sempstress, various men and women employed in making 
dresses and underlineu, the bootmakers, and perfumers, the cutler, book- 
seller, stationer, laundresses, and messengers, &c. The total outlay comes 
to 25,318 livres 15 sols 1 denier. — (Papiers du Temple, 1st April, 1884, 
loc, cit.) 

138 




LOUIS XVr. TEACHING HIS SON GEOGRAPHY IN THE TEMPLE. 



THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE 

not the least pleasurable. It still took place in the Temple 
ffarden, in an avenue of chestnut trees that had not been 
destroyed. On the occasion of this mild amusement the 
royal family were accompanied by all the commissioners, the 
greater number of whom walked in a line with them.^ 

Clery amused the young prince apart from the others, and 
made him run about for the sake of exercise. Meanwhile I 
stood by and, as I watched him, meditated on the thought- 
lessness of his age, which seemed to me to contrast so 
strikingly with the anxieties of his royal parents, and the 
demeanour they were obliged to preserve in this cruel 
situation of theirs. Madame Elizabeth, who noticed the sad 
absorption with which I followed the movements of the 
young Prince, and read my thoughts, condescended to tell me 
so on the first opportunity, and was kind enough to thank 
me. The tender affection of this good princess for her 
imprisoned relatives, whose misfortunes she had determined 
to share, made her very observant and acute, so that she 
learnt to judge of the commissioners'' humanity by their 
looks and conduct, and she was not too proud to encourage 
it in them by expressing her gratitude. 

At dinner, which was served in the King''s room, I again 
saw the whole royal family, but under a new aspect. Their 
food was still excellent, and carefully prepared. The royal 
prisoners were most abstemious, the princesses and M. le 
Dauphin drinking nothing but water, of which the King 
mixed a great deal with his wine. At dessert he indulged in 
a single glass of sweet wine. His skill in carving meat was 
remarkable ; and he showed this skill in various kinds of 
manual work, with which he had been in the habit of amusing 
himself in happier times. The royal family spoke little, for 
reserve was forced upon them by the presence of the com- 

^ It was during one of these walks that Lequeux, an architect of some 
repute, took the very interesting sketch that faces p. 84. It may be assumed 
to date from the early days of September, 1792, since the work of isolating 
the Tower is not yet completed . On the right we see the avenue of chestnuts 
to which Moelle refers. In the foreground, counting from right to left, 
are three commissioners of the Commune, the King, the Queen, the 
Dauphin, Madame Royale, Clery, Madame fllizabeth, the porter Mathey, 
carrying his keys ; and no doubt Tison and his wife are the figures above 
the note written by the artist : / smv them there. — L. Q. 

139 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

missioners. As for me, the part I had undertaken to play was 
torture to me, for I reflected bitterly that I too was 
contributing to the restraint to which this august family was 
subjected even at their meals. 



About twelve days after the King's death I went on duty 
in the Temple for the last time. During the two days I 
passed there very little occurred. It was almost always impos- 
sible to communicate with the princesses in their room, on 
account of Tison"'s anxious vigilance ; and I was reduced to 
expressing my feelings almost entirely by mute but respectful 
glances. This prompted me, on my last day, to suggest to 
the royal family that they should seek some fresh air on the 
roof of the Tower, where I hoped to find it easier to converse 
with the princesses. The suggestion was accepted, and the 
Queen as she left the room to climb the stairs gave her hand 
to a municipal officer called Minier, a jeweller on the Quai 
des Orfevres. This august princess, thinking in her great 
goodness that my feelings might have been hurt by her 
choosing his assistance rather than mine, was kind enough to 
tell me as soon as she was at liberty to speak, that she had 
acted in this way for fear of compromising me. This favour 
was a thousand times greater than the other ; and far 
greater than anything I deserved. 

All the commissioners were present during this sadly 
circumscribed walk. When we reached the platform the 
Queen and Madame Royale leant upon the parapet at one 
side, ostensibly to enjoy the view from this great height. 
The Queen was between Madame and me. After I had told 
her all I knew of public affairs in answer to her questions, 
she asked me what measures I thought the Convention would 
take with regard to herself and the fate of the royal family. 
I answered that she would probably be claimed by the 
Emperor, her nephew ; that any fresh excess would be a 
gratuitous, and, moreover, an impolitic outrage ; and that 
the King's death must surely be the final crime of the Con- 
vention, who had, indeed, when answering the King's request 
for a respite, undertaken to provide for his family in some 

140 



THE NARRATIVE OF MOELl.E 

suitable way.^ This answer, which was the only one I could 
make in the circumstances, seemed to allay the Queen's 
anxiety to a certain extent ; but her hopes were chiefly for 
her children and Madame Elizabeth, whose future concerned 
her much more than her own. No one who never heard the 
Queen give free and confidential expression to her goodness 
of heart can have any idea of her true feelings or of her 
beautiful nature. The royal family were too generous not 
to be touched by the behaviour of those commissioners who 
tried to lessen the hardships of their imprisonment, and 
showed respect for their misfortunes. There is nothing 
surprising, then, in the confidence that the Queen and 
Madame iiilizabeth showed in some of these commissioners ; 
it was the only reward they had to offer in their state of 
extreme destitution. It is worthy of note that their confi- 
dence was never betrayed by any of those who were honoured 
by it in a greater or less degree. This is as great a proof of 
the princesses' discernment as of the sincere devotion that 
they inspired and deserved. 

Madame Royale, as I said, was present during the conversa- 
tion, which now turned on various people ; among others on 
Barnave, for whom the Queen inquired. I told her of his 
death, which I had seen announced in several papers, though 
it did not actually occur till the following year, when he was 
executed with Duport-du-Tertre and Rabaut-Saint-Etienne. 
On the subject of Lafayette, the Queen said he was one of 
the chief causes of the sorrows that had befallen the Kins; 
and herself. Finally, when speaking of all that had combined 
to bring Louis XVI. and his family to such depths of misery, 
the Queen said she had not had the influence in public affairs 
that had been attributed to her ; but on this subject she 
expressed herself very cautiously. 

However that may be, the Queen shared her husband's fate 
with absolute devotion. She endured a thousand dangers, a 
thousand insults, a long imprisonment, and death at last ! 

' M. Montjoie mentions this fact in his Histoire de la Seine, and in his 
second edition adds a note in which he refers to me. I repeat this part of 
the conversation exactly as it took place in Madame Royale's presence. — 
{Note by Moelle.) 

141 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

And she might have escaped ! It is impossible to lay too 
much stress on the fact that her courage and devotion, 
which have been so cruelly misrepresented, are unique in 
history, and that Madame Elizabeth, too, deserves her meed 
of honour.^ 

I took this opportunity of begging the Queen to tell me 
whether the Chevalier de Labrousse, who, to the anxiety of 
his family, had disappeared on the 10th of August, had been 
seen at the palace. Her Majesty, being unable to give me 
any information on the subject, asked Madame if she knew 
anything. The princess answered that she remembered 
having seen the Chevalier de Labrousse at the palace between 
eight and nine o'clock on the morning of the 10th August, 
and that she feared he must have fallen a victim on that 
day. 

The Queen was able to talk thus to me, because Madame 
^^lizabeth, who probably was doing all she could to make our 
conversation possible, was holding the attention of the other 
commissioners, who were also engaged with the young Prince 
and Clery. 

Moreover, as our walk was limited by the four sides of the 
parapet, and the sloping roof that surmounted the Tower 
filled up all the centre of the platform, the side on which the 
Queen was standing was hidden from the commissioners, who 
were walking with Madame Elizabeth along the other three 
sides of the parapet. Therefore her Majesty had been able 
to talk to me in comparative safety. 

I must not forget to say that, having seen the young 
prince going alone into the loft formed by the roof of the 
Tower, the opening of which was on the side where I happened 
to be, I had taken the opportunity of following him, and 
taking him in my arms and kissing him. I could not resist 
my desire for this last satisfaction. 

This royal child had the noblest and most lovable face. 
His figure was perfect, and at that time he enjoyed the most 

^ Margaret of Anjou did not share Henry VI. 's imprisonment, but she was 
able to fight for him. Henrietta of France, Charles I.'s wife, took refuge 
in France; and James II. 's Queen preceded him to the same country. — 
(Note by Moelle. ) 

142 



THE NARRATIVE OF MOELLE 

excellent health. His bright, intelligent remarks, and his 
habitual merriment, bore witness to a charming character. 

The injury done by his persecutors to his fine natural 
disposition is, perhaps, the most terrible of their crimes ! 

And I must not omit to mention that in my desire to keep 
something that had been used by one of the princesses, I took 
possession of a glove belonging to Madame Royale, which I 
found on a seat. It was a kid glove of a yellowish colour, 
and it was taken at the time of my arrest from my writing- 
table, where I had put it with my most precious possessions. 



143 



THE CONCIERGERIE 

(August 2nd — October 16th, 1793) 

At midday on the 1st August, 1793, Hanriot, Commander-in- 
chief of the Parisian forces, repaired to the Temple, where he 
inspected all the gates, as well as the quarters of the prisoners. 
He noted the "lack of artillery," took fresh measures for the 
guarding of the place, ordered the officers in command at the 
different guard-houses to supply themselves with ammunition, 
and in short put the Temple more or less into a state of siege. 
At eight o'clock in the evening matches were distributed in the 
artillery-park that occupied the court of the Grand Prior's 
palace ; and the troops were astir throughout the night. 

At a quarter past one in the morning Michonis, Froidure, 
Marino, and Michel, commissioners of police, arrived on the 
scene, armed with the Order which the General Council had 
drawn up on the previous day for the execution of the decree 
passed by the Convention, to the effect that Marie Antoinette 
should appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal, and should 
immediately be transferred to the Conciergerie. Twenty 
gendai-mes waited in the yard to escort the prisoner.^ She was 
awakened — if indeed she slept. She embraced her daughter 
and her sister-in-law — her son had been taken from her a raonth 
before — and then she passed down the stairs of the Tower and 
out into the stifling, oppressive night. Surrounded by com- 
missioners and soldiers she crossed the silent garden of the 
Temple ; not, we may well believe, without turning, as Louis 
XVI. had tui'ned on the 21st January, to look her last at the 
Tower that loomed, huge and sinister, in the darkness. A cab 
awaited her at the steps of the palace ; the great gate opened to let 

^ Papiers du Temple, loc. cit, 

144 



THE CONCIERGERIE 

her pass : she and her guard briskly crossed the sleeping town ; 
through the streets of Le Temple, La Tixeranderie, La 
Coutellerie, and Planche-Mibray, and over the bridge of Notre- 
Dame ; then plunged into the Rue de la Lanterne, and through 
the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie reached the yard of the Law 
Courts at last. The gates were opened ; turnkeys surrounded 
the prisoner ; she was hurried down the steps and through the 
flagged corridors ; finally she reached a little cell with an arched 
ceiling. It was now nearly three o'clock in the morning. To 
this place we shall return presently, to find Maria Theresa's 
daughter. 

It must not be imagined that the decree of the Convention, 
summoning Marie Antoinette before the tribunal, determined 
the fate of the Queen. The revolutionary politicians acted by 
fits and starts, prompted by fury or fear ; their resolutions were 
regulated by no plan and showed no attempt at logical sequence. 
A month after the Convention had passed its decree the Queen's 
fate was still undecided. It was hoped that she might be useful 
as a hostage, as a means of prevailing on Austria to end the war ; 
for tentative negotiations had been opened with Brussels and 
Vienna, and it was thought that the head of the unhappy Queen 
might command a high price. 

It seems certain that her transference from the Temple to the 
Conciergerie was effected with the sole object of making the 
world believe that the prisoner was shortly to be tried ; and 
indeed from this moment every effort was made to spread a 
rumour that her execution was imminent. It was thought that 
by this means the foreign Powers might be roused from their 
indifference, and to save Marie Antoinette from the scaffold 
might perhaps be persuaded to make the advances that had 
been expected in vain for the last three months. The 
Committee of Public Safety — for the mass of the Convention 
did not count and had no opinion — regarded both the decree 
and the Queen's transference as a mere threat and nothing 
more. As for delivering her into the hands of Fouquier- 
Tinville, no one dared to take the responsibility. 

This sinister farce was wonderfully successful : not with the 
foreign Powers, who seemed to be in no way agitated ; but with 
the few active royalists in Paris who were still struggling to 
save the lives of their dead master's family. No sooner was 
Marie Antoinette removed to the Conciergerie, no sooner did it 

145 L 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

appear plain that the fatal climax was drawing near, than a fresh 
series of courageous efforts was made on the prisoner's behalf. 
It was at this time that the adventurous, complicated Carnation 
Conspiracy was formed ; a subject into which we will not enter, 
having tried elsewhere to unravel the more complex parts of the 
story. 1 

But this abortive effort only increased the perplexity of the 
Committee of Public Safety. The problem remained unchanged. 
What was to be done with this embarrassing hostage, since 
Austria did not seem inclined to redeem her ? What would 
happen if some plot, better organised than the others, were to 
succeed in rescuing the prisoner ? The authorities knew very 
well — they had cause to know — ^that there was at that time a 
more powerful influence in France than all the committees put 
too-ether : namely, money. A fearless man with large sums at 
his disposal might any day make himself the deus ex machind of 
the Revolution. Everything was sold to the highest bidder : 
from Gobel's abjuration, which was at thig^very moment being 
bargained for and finally cost 300,000 livres,^ to the votes of the 
Convention, which Chabot undertook to secure if the funds were 
sufficient, and even to the re-capture of Toulon, which was 
valued at ten millions, but eventually cost only four.^ These 
being the conditions, there was a great risk that the hostage 
that seemed so valuable might be lost, and nothing gained. But 
what was to be done ? 

It was during this period that the Committee of Public Safety 
held a secret sitting. It took place on the 2nd September, at 
eleven o'clock at night, and was held, not in the ordinary 
meeting-place in the Tuileries, but at the house of Pache, the 
Mayor of Paris. 

At this time, there was residing at Genoa, an Englishman 
called Francis Drake, through whom the British Government was 
kept informed almost daily of the state of public sentiment in 
France. This Drake forwarded to Lord Grenville the reports he 
received from Paris, reports that were actually indited, he 
declared, by a secretary of the Committee of Public Safety. 

1 Perhaps we may be allowed to refer the reader to the authentic docu- 
ments connected with the plot, the examinations, inquiries, &c. , published 
in Le Vrai Chevalier de Maison Rouge, A. D. J. Gonzze de Rougeville, 
1761-1814. 

2 Historical Manuscripts Commission. The MSS. of J. B. Fortescue, 
Esq. , preserved at Dropmore. (Vol. II. , p. 463. ) 

■^ Ibid. (Vol. II., p. 487.) 

146 



THE CONCIEKGERIE 

This tale of an English spy, living in constant correspondence 
with the members of the revolutionaiy government, would seem 
almost incredible if the documents were not there to bear evidence 
to the truth of the amazing melodrama. 

Now this spy was, so to speak, present during the following 
savage and horrible scene ; the souls of the men of the Terror 
were laid bare before him ; he heard them trafficking in heads 
and trading upon the fury of the Parisian mob ; and alas ! thanks 
to this informer the shameful spectacle was witnessed also in a 
foreign land, where those who saw it rejoiced that France had 
fallen so low. 

We will only quote from the minutes of this long sitting, which 
lasted throughout the night, such passages as bear directly on the 
subject with which we are concerned. 

" The insurrection of the 4th and 5th was resolved upon in 
its entirety. The arrest of 2,250 citizens at Paris was decided 
upon : the arrests |;o be carried out by the revolutionary army 
immediately on its formation : and it was decreed that 
Chantilly and L'Isle-Adam should be filled with prisoners 
because it would be easy to get rid of them there quietly. 

"It was resolved to levy a hundred millions in cash and a 
list was given of those who could provide the money. 

" It was resolved that the Queen should die, as well as the 
followers of Brissot, and everyone who was arrested on the 
31st May. 

" With regard to the Queen, Cambon remarked that Forgues 
said negotiations relating to her were going on with Brussels, 
Vienna, and Prussia, and that perhaps it might be possible by 
threatening, but postponing the trial, to derive considerable 
advantage from the affair. 

" Herault, Barrere, Jean Bon, Saint Andre, and Hebert 
rose in a fury to oppose this proposition : declaring that 
Louis XVII.'s life fulfilled this object in every particular ; 
that the Queen's blood was necessary as a means of associating 
the Revolutional Tribunal with the Convention, and making 
the town of Paris a partner in the destinies of the Convention, 
that the death of Capet was more particularly the act of the 
Convention, but that of the Queen would be the act of Paris 
and of the Revolutionary Tribunal and army. 

147 L 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

" Hebert spoke still more strongly. 

" He said : ' I have promised Antoinette's head, and I 
shall go and cut it off myself if there is any delay about giving 
it to me. I have promised it in your name to the sansculottes 
Avho demand it, to those without Avhom you Avould cease to 
exist. The republican instinct prompts this wish of theirs to 
make themselves one with us by means of this expiatory 
sacrifice ; and yet you hesitate. But here am I, and I will 
make you decide. 

" ' I cannot see light where there is darkness, nor find 
roses where there are only daggers. 

" ' I do not know if you still have any hope of a Republic, 
or a Constitution, or of safety for yourselves ; but I do know 
that if you still have any such hope you are greatly deceived. 
You will all die ; it cannot be otherwise. 

" ' I do not know whether it was right or ^vl'ong to bring 
things to this pass ; but that is how things are. All your 
generals are betraying you, and they will all go on betraying 
you, and I should be the first to do so if I were your general 
and a man of less mark, and saw a good treaty to be made 
that woiild save my life ; but be sm-e that neither Pache nor 
I, nor any of the King's judges, will be able to save our lives. 
That could only be done by changing the face of Europe. It 
cannot be done now. 

" ' The Kings ^vi\\ injiu'e themselves in their desire to crush 
us — who shall crush them in twenty years' time. But none 
the less we shall die. France will be conquered. . . We shall 
all die, and so will all those who, like us, have played a pro- 
minent part. 

" • If we were promised an amnesty it would be broken, 
simply because nothing else would be possible ; you would 
merely be stabbed or poisoned instead of being quartered. 
This being our position, then, Ave have nothing to live for but 
revenge. Our revenge may be immense. When we die let 
us leave the germs of death in our enemies, and in France such 
devastation that the mark of it will never be obliterated. To 
effect this you must satisfy the sansculottes ; they will kill all 
your enemies, but you must keep up their excitement by the 
death of Antoinette — that is for them ; the death of the 

148 



THE CONCIERGERIE 

Brissotins is for us — and by pillaging the treasuries of our 
enemies. 

" ' Remember that the way to make them dare everything 
is to persuade them of the truth that I din into their ears 
every day : that in this crisis, whatever the event may be, 
their obscurity is their safeguard, and that we are responsible 
for everything. Thus they will help us heartily, for all the 
profits will be theirs and all the dangers ours. 

" ' That is all I need say to you to let you know what I 
think.' 

" Having said this, he went out, without a momenfs delay. 

" After he left, 500,000 francs were given to Pache for the 
insurrection of the 4th, in assignats. 

" The public prosecutor of the Revolutionary Tribunal 
was sent for, to be asked what he intended to do with regard 
to the Queen. 

" He said the jury must be renewed, for five jurymen were 
resolved to support her ; that a certain amount of riot would 
be necessary to overcome the fear of the Tribunal ; that 
Dobsent was nervous, and had said that the poisoning of the 
Queen was the only way to be rid of that thorn in the side : 
and that he, the public prosecutor, would draw up the 
indictment with the Committee in any terms they chose." ^ 

This time the Queen's fate was fixed ; and all the more that^ 
in the very hour that this discussion took place^ the Carnation 
Conspiracy was discovered in the Conciergerie. The merest 
chance had prevented the escape of the prisoner, who had 
actually left her cell and was awaited in the Cour du Mai by a 
fictitious patrolling-party. 

And now we will return to the registrar's office in the prison 
of the Law Courts, and to the hour when Marie Antoinette 
arrived there in the night of the 2nd August, 1 793. 

^ Francis Drake to Lord Grenville. Schedule I. Historical Manuscripts 
Commission. The MS8. of J. B. Fortescue, Esq. , preserved at Dropmore. 
(Vol. II., p. 457.) 



149 



THE NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE 
LAMORLIERE 

SERVANT AT THE CONCIERGERIE 

(August — October, 1793) 



There is no need foi- us to introduce Rosalie Lamorliere. The 
poor girl has no story, or rather, her whole biography is contained 
in the few pages that we are about to read. 

We must, however, draw attention to the fact that Rosalie, 
being quite illiterate, did not herself write her account of the 
Queen's last days. It is to the investigations of Lafont 
d'Aussonne that we owe this interesting narrative, and we must 
guard ourselves from too implicit a belief in all its details. For 
Lafont d'Aussonne was the author of a history of Marie 
Antoinette ; " he had finished the siege," ^ and in editing the 
recollections of this servant-girl he took care to omit everything 
that did not concur with his own views. It is even possible that 
he added a few apparently insignificant details of his own, which 
he thought might be useful as so many points gained for his own 
side. 

We shall be obliged to return to this subject elsewhere, so we 
shall not interrupt Rosalie's story, except by a few short notes. 
We shall presently show that, even if Lafont d'Aussonne, 
voluntarily or otherwise, made some mistakes in his version, the 
fundamental part of the tale is absolutely authentic, as Rosalie 
herself recognised and certified later on. 

1 The historian Vertot, author of UHistoire d& VOrdre de Mcdte, on 
receiving certain special information with regard to the siege of Rhodes, 
said he was sorry he could make no use of it, as he had "finished the 
siege." — [Translator's Note.) 

150 



Oa>irR 




Plan of Part of^the 
conciergerie in 1793. 

Traced in accordance 
with the narratives, evi- 
dence, and memoirs of 
Beugnot, RioufFe, Rosa- 
lie Lamorli^re, Micho- 
nis, Rougeville, etc., etc., 
the plans of the Law 
Courts, documents in the 
National Archives, etc. 



A. Door of a guardhouse under- 
neath the main entrance to 
the Law Courts. 

B. Entrance of the prison. 

a. First door. 

b. Second door. 

C. Boom used by the Gaoler 
Richard. 

D. Spot where the hair of con- 
demned prisoners was cut 
off and sold. 

E. Registrar's Of&ce. 

c. Glazed partition or wooden grating. 

d. Pigeon-holes containing the dossiers. 
P. The back-office. 

e. Bench. 
G. Rooms where the turnkeys slept. 
H. Council Room (Marie Antoinette's first 

cell). 
I. Small rooms where women condemned to 

death spent the night. 
J. Room of the gendarmes guarding the 

Queen. 
K. The Queen's second cell 



THE queen's two CELLS IN THE CONCIERGERIE. 



151 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 



Declaration of Rosalie Lamorliere, Native of Breteuil in 
Picardy^ Servant in the Conciergerie during the 
Imprisonment of Marie Antoinette. 

I was employed, in the capacity of lady's maid, by Madame 
Beaulieu, the mother of the celebrated actor, when King 
Louis XVI. was condemned to die upon the scaffold. 
Madame Beaulieu, who was at that time both infirm and 
ill, nearly died of grief when she heard he had been con- 
demned, and she cried out over and over again : " Unjust 
and barbarous people, the day will come when you shall 
shed tears of despair upon the grave of this good King ! " 

Madame Beaulieu died soon after the September massacres^ ; 
and her son then confided me to the care of Madame Richard, 
wife of the gaoler at the Law Courts. 

At first I felt a great dislike to taking a situation with a 
gaoler ; but M. Beaulieu, who was, as is well known, a good 
royalist, and in his legal capacity was going to defend the 
victims of the Revolutionary Tribunal without any fee, 
begged me to accept this place because, he said, I should 
find opportunities of being useful to numbers of worthy 
people who were confined in the Conciergerie. He promised 
to come and see me as often as he could, for his theatre, 
the Theatre de la Cite, was only a few steps away.^ 

My new mistress, Madame Richard, had not the education 
of Madame Beaulieu, but she had the same gentleness of dis- 
position, and as she had been a dealer in ladies'' wardrobes 
she was naturally inclined to cleanliness both in her house 
and in her person. 

At this time it took a great deal of capability to manage 
a huge prison like the Conciergerie, yet I never saw my 
mistress perplexed. She answered everyone in few words ; 

^ This gives us some idea of Lafont d'Aussonne's method of working. 
If Madame Beaulieu died soon after the massacres of September (1792) she 
cannot have nearly died of grief a,t the King's execution in January, 1793, as 
is said to have been the case a few lines back. The apostrophe to the 
unjust and barbarous people, then, was invented by Lafont d'Aussonne. 

2 It is quite true that the theatre in which Beaulieu acted was at the 
corner formed by the Rue de la Vieille-Draperie and the Rue de la 
Barillerie, exactly opposite to the gate of the Law Courts. 

152 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

she gave orders with absolute clearness ; she never slept for 
more than a few minutes at a time, and nothing occurred 
within or without the prison of which she was not 
immediately informed. Her husband, though not so 
capable in business matters, was painstaking and hard- 
working. I gradually became attached to this family, 
because I saw they did not disapprove of the pity I felt for 
the poor prisoners of that dreadful time. 

After dinner on the 1st August, 1793, Madame Richard 
said to me in a low voice : " Rosalie, we shall not go to bed 
to-night. You shall sleep on a chair. The Queen is going 
to be moved from the Temple to this prison." Immediately 
afterwards I heard her giving orders for General Custine's 
removal from the Council Room,^ so that the Queen might be 
put into it. A turnkey was despatched to the store-keeper 
of the prison, Bertaud, who lived in the Cour de la Sainte- 
Chapelle. He was asked for a folding bedstead, two 
mattresses, a bolster, a light coverlet, and a basin. 

This slight supply of furniture was placed in the damp 
room that M. de Custine was leaving. A common table and 
two prison chairs were added. Such were the preparations 
made to receive the Queen of France. 

At about three o'clock in the morning I was sitting in an 
arm-chair, half asleep, when Madame Richard pulled my arm 
and woke me suddenly, saying : " Come, Rosalie, come, wake 
up ! Take this candlestick — they are coming ! " 

I went downstairs, trembling, and followed Madame Richard 
to M. de Custine's cell, which was at the end of a long dark 
passage. The Queen was already there. A number of 
gendarmes stood before her door on the outside. Several 
officers and prison officials were inside the room, and were 

1 Historians have not been able to agree as to the situation of this 
Council Room, and have given up trying to determine where it was. The 
enigma seems fairly easy to solve, however. According to the descriptions 
of Rosalie Lamorliere and other eye-witnesses the entrance to this room 
was at the end of a passage, and was lighted by a loiu windoio almost 
011 a level with the Cour des Femmes. Well, there is but one, and judging 
by the old plans there never has been more than one, room in the 
Conciergerie that answers to this description. It is now the canteen of 
the prison. The Queen was there from the morning of the 3rd August 
till the 13th or 14th September, that is to say for forty days. 

153 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

talking together in low voices. The day was beginning to 
dawn. 

Instead of registering the Queen's name in the office with 
the glass partition, to the left of the entrance-hall,^ they 
registered it in her cell. This formality being completed, 
everyone went out except Madame Richard and myself, who 
remained alone with the Queen. The weather was hot. I 
remarked the drops of perspiration that ran down the 
Queen's face, which she wiped two or three times with her 
handkerchief. She looked round with astonished eyes at the 
horrible emptiness of the room, and with a certain amount of 
interest at the gaoler's wife and myself. Then, standing on 
a cloth-covered stool that I had brought her from my room, 
the Queen hung her watch upon a nail that she saw in the 
wall, and began to undress to go to bed. I went forward 
respectfully and offered her my assistance. " No, thank you, 
my good girl,"" she answered, without a sign of sullenness or 
pride ; " since I have been without anyone to help me I have 
done everything for myself." 

The daylight was growing. We took away our candles, 
and the Queen lay down in a bed that was certainly very unfit 
for her, though we had at least provided her with very fine 
linen and a pillow. 

When morning came two gendarmes were posted in the 
Queen's room, and she was also provided with a servant in 
the person of a woman of nearly eighty years old, who was, 
as I have learnt since, at one time the concierge of the 
Admiralty Court in this very building of the Law Courts. 
Her son, who was about twenty-four or twenty-five years of 
age, was one of the turnkeys of our prison. (Her name was 
Lariviere.) ^ 

During the first forty days ^ I had nothing to do in the 
Queen's room. I only went there with Madame Richard or 
her husband to carry in the breakfast at nine o'clock, and the 
dinner, which was generally at two o'clock or half-past. 
Madame Richard laid the table, and I, to show my respect, 

^ See the plan, p. 151. 

^ See page 238, the narrative of the turnkey, this woman's son. 
^ That is to say, until the 13th September when the Queen was moved to 
another cell. 

154 




PASSAGE LEADING TO THE QUEEN'S FIRST CELL IN THE CONCIERGERIE. 
ACTUAL CONDITION. —DRAWN ON THE SPOT BY GERARDIN, 



155 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

stood near the door. But Her Majesty deigned to notice 
this, and did me the honour of saying : " Come nearer, 
Rosalie ; do not be afraid.*" 

Old Madame liariviere, after having patched and mended 
the Queen's black dress very neatly, was considered unfit for 
her post. She returned to her home near the old Admiralty 
Court, and was at once replaced by a young woman called 
Harel, whose husband was employed in the police depart- 
ment.^ 

The Queen had shown confidence in the old woman, and 
evidently had some regard for her. She did not think so 
well of her successor, and hardly ever spoke a word to her. 

The two gendarmes (who were always the same 2) were 

^ To these details we may add the following sketch, drawn by another 
witness. "During the early days of the month of August, 1793, 
a turnkey from the Conciergerie came to fetch me, for I was the glazier 
employed in the prison and the Law Courts. He told me, in the gaoler's 
name, to bring two panes of glass of a medium size, and to follow him 
without delay. 

" When I entered the large vestibule, where I heard I was to be taken to 
the Queen's cell, I was seized by a sudden feeling of pity, and I left my 
hat there, so as to appear more respectful. 

' ' When I went into her cell, which was a little low room of about fourteen 
feet square, I saw the Queen sitting in front of her bed, with her eyes 
fixed upon her work. Two gendarmes, armed with swords and muskets, 
were in the opposite corner, with their faces towards the Queen ; and 
a woman of the people, seated between the Queen's chair and the door, 
fixed her eyes upon me attentively. 

"While I was putting my first pane into one of the window-frames the 
sound of a harp came from the upper floors of the prison. Her Majesty 
laid down her work and listened to the music, which seemed to please her, 
I thought. Then this great princess said to me : ' Monsieur h vitrier, do 
yoiT think that the harp we hear is being played by some woman in the 
prison ? ' 

"' Madame,' I answered her at once, ' the person who is playing that 
instrument does not belong to the prison. She is the daughter of one of 
the registrars ' — I was about to add ' of one of the tribunals of the Seine,' 
but the woman Arel, with a look of great irritation, signed to me in an 
imperious way that reduced me to silence. 

" The Queen saw by my face that an order of this kind had been con- 
veyed to me. She did not say another word, and lowered her eyes." — 
(Deposition of the Sieur Orens. Mdnioire au Eoi, by Lafont d'Avissonne, 
1825.) 

2 This parenthesis is certainly interpolated by Lafont d'Aussonne. We 
shall see how important it was for him that these gendarmes should have 
been always the same. As Rosalie had given their names as Dufrene and 
Gilbert he hoped to be able to refute the believers in The Queen's 
Communion at the Conciergerie, who affirmed, with the Abbe Mangnin as 
their authority, that these men were called Prud'homme and Lamarche. 
It is quite certain, on the contrary, that the gendarmes who guarded the 

156 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

called Dufrene and Gilbert. The latter seemed rougher than 
his companion the corporal. Sometimes Her Majesty, in her 
intense weariness of doing nothing, would go up to them 
while we were laying the table, and would watch them playing 
cards for a few moments, while Madame Richard or the gaoler 
was present. 

One day Madame Richard brought into the cell her 
youngest child, who had fair hair, very pretty blue eyes, and 
a charming face that was much more refined than is common 
in his class of life. He was known as Fanfan. 

When the Queen saw this fine little boy she was obviously 
greatly moved. She took him in her arms, covered him with 
kisses and caresses, and bursting into tears began to talk to 
us about M. le Dauphin, who was of about the same age. 
She thought of him night and day. This incident was most 
painful to her, and after we had gone upstairs again Madame 
Richard told me nothing would induce her to take her little 
boy into the cell again. 

About the middle of September a most unfortunate thing 
happened, which did the Queen a great deal of harm. An 
officer in the army called M. de Rougeville was brought into 
her cell in disguise by a municipal officer named Michonis. 
The former (who was known to the Queen) dropped a carnation 
on the hem of her skirt, and I have heard it said that the 
flower concealed a paper on which were written the details of 
a conspiracy. The woman Harel saw everything, and reported 
the matter to Fouquier-Tinville, who came into the prison 
every night before twelve o"'clock. The two gendarmes were 
also questioned. The Government thought there was a wide- 
spread plot in Paris for helping the Queen to escape, and 
immediately issued orders that were more severe and a hundred 
times more terrible than any previous ones. M. Richard, his 
wife, and their eldest son were confined in the prisons of 
Sainte-Pelagie and the Madelonnettes. The woman Harel 

prisoner were not always the same. We shall see presently that Rosalie 
speaks of an officer being on guard in the Queen's room. This officer was 
not Gilbert, who was an ordinary gendarme, nor yet Dufrene, whose 
functions were those of a corporal. Nor were Gilbert and Dufrene on 
duty on the morning of the 16th October. Moreover Rosalie says later on : 
The two gendarmes were removed from the Queen's cell, 

157 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

disappeared. The two gendarmes were removed from the 
Queen's cell, and a man called Lebeau,^ the head gaoler at 
La Force, was appointed to be the new gaoler at the Law 
Courts. 

At first sight Lebeau seemed hard and stern, but he was 
not a bad man at heart. The directors of the prison told 
him I was to remain there in his employ as cook, because they 
had no reason to distrust me, and I meddled with nothing in 
the house but ray own business. They added, however, that 
I was no longer to go to market as in Madame Ilichard"'s 
time, and was to be kept within the confines of the Con- 
ciergerie, like the gaoler and his young daughter Victoire 
(now Madame Colson, living at Montfort I'Amaury). 

It was decided that Lebeau was to be answerable with his 
life for the Queen's person, and that he alone was to have the 
use of the key of her cell. He was never to enter it except 
when absolutely necessary, and then was always to be accom- 
panied by the officer of constabulary on duty, or by the 
corporal. 

A sentinel was posted in the little Cour des Femmes, which 
the Queen's room overlooked, and as her two little windows 
were nearly on a level with the pavement the sentinel, as he 
passed to and fro, could easily see everything that took place 
inside the room. 

Although Her Majesty had no communication with anyone 
in the Conciergerie, she was not in ignorance of the misfortune 
that had befallen her first gaoler and his family. Some 
members of the Committee of General Security had paid her 
a visit, and had questioned her with regard to Michonis and 

^ Lafont d'Aussonne always persisted in calling Richard's successor 
Lebeau. His name was Baidt. At least, he signed himself so. 

It was on the 11th September that Richard and his family were lodged in 
the Madelonnettes. It seems certain that they showed great devotion to the 
Queen. Montjoye writes as follows : "I was entirely successful in gaining 
over Richard, whom from the first I found to be influenced by sentiments 
superior to his condition in life. I persuaded him to consent to every- 
thing I could desire for the well-being of the Queen. I began by 
appointing myself librarian to the Queen, who, as I shall always 
remember, declared that she enjoyed reading the most appalling 
adventures. . . . The Queen began by reading Un Voyage d Venise, 
which seemed to please her because she found people mentioned in it whom 
she had known in her childhood at the Court of Vienna. After this 
she embarked upon L'Histoire des Naufrages fameux." 

158 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

the carnation,^ and I heard that she had answered all the 
questions with the greatest caution. 

When Lebeau entered the Queen's room for the first time, 
I went with him, carrying the soup that Madame usually had 
for breakfast. She looked at Lebeau, who, in accordance 
with the fashion of the day, was dressed in the garment called 
a Carmagnole. The collar of his shirt was open and turned 
back, but his head was bare. Holding his keys in his hand, 
he stood close to the wall near the door. 

The Queen removed her night-cap, took a chair, and said 
to me pleasantly : " Rosalie, you must put up my chignon 
for me to-day." On hearing these words the gaoler ran 
forward, seized the comb, and, pushing me aside, said in a 
loud voice : " Leave it alone, leave it alone ; that is my 
business." The Queen, greatly surprised, looked at Lebeau 
with an air of indescribable majesty. " I thank you, no," she 
said to him. Then, rising from her chair, she arranged her 
hair herself, and put on her cap. 

Ever since she had been in the Conciergerie her hair had 
been dressed in the simplest way. She parted it on her fore- 
head after sprinkling it with a little scented powder, Madame 
Harel bound the hair at the end with a piece of white ribbon 
about a yard in length, knotted the ribbon tightly and gave 
the two ends of it to Madame, who crossed them herself, and 
by fastening them on the top of her head gave her hair the 
shape of a loose chignon. Her hair was fair, not red. 

On the day that she declined Lebeau's help, and resolved 
in future to arrange her hair herself. Her Majesty took from 
the table the roll of white ribbon that was left over, and said 
to me, with an expression of melancholy friendliness that went 
to my heart : " Rosalie, take this ribbon, and keep it always 
in memory of me." The tears came to my eyes, and as I 
thanked Madame I made her a curtsey. 

When the gaoler and I were in the passage he took posses- 
sion of my ribbon, and when we reached his room upstairs he 
said : " I am very sorry to have annoyed that poor woman, 

^ We have quoted the text of this examination in Le Vrai Chevalier de 
Maison- Rouge — A. D. J. Gonzze de Rougeville. We venture to refer the 
reader to that work. 

159 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

but my position is so difficult that the least thing is enough 
to frighten me. I cannot forget that my comrade Richard 
and his wife are in a prison cell. In heaven's name, Rosalie, 
do nothing imprudent, or I am lost." 

When, during the night of the 2nd August, the Queen 
arrived from the Temple, I noticed that no kind of under- 
clothes nor other garments had been brought with her. On 
the morrow, and on every following day, this unfortunate 
princess asked for some linen, but Madame Richard, fearing 
to compromise herself, did not dare to lend her any, or 
procure any for her. At last the municipal officer, Michonis, 
who was a good fellow at heart, went to the Temple, and on 
the tenth day a parcel was brought from the Tower. The 
Queen opened it without delay. It contained some beautiful 
cambric chemises, some pocket-handkerchiefs, some fichus, 
some stockings of black silk or filoselle, a white wrapper to 
wear in the morning, some night-caps, and several pieces of 
ribbon of various widths. Madame was quite touched at the 
sight of this linen, and turning to Madame Richard and me 
she said : " From the careful way in which all these things 
are arranged, I can recognise the though tfulness and the hand 
of my poor sister Elizabeth." 

When Her Majesty came to the prison she was wearing her 
large mourning-cap, her widow's headdress. One day she said 
to Madame Richard, in my presence : " Madame, I should be 
glad, if it were possible, to have two caps instead of one, so 
as to be able to change. Would you have the kindness to 
give my headdress to the sempstress you employ ? There is, 
I think, enough lawn in it to make two simple caps." 

Madame Richard carried out the Queen's commission with- 
out any difficulty ; and when we brought her the two perfectly 
simple new caps she seemed satisfied with them, and turning 
to me was good enough to say : " Rosalie, I have nothing 
now that I can give away ; but I should like, child, to give 
you this wire frame and this piece of lawn that the sempstress 
has returned." 

I curtsied humbly as I thanked Madame ; and I still have 
the piece of lawn that she did me the honour of giving me. 
I showed it, twenty-nine or thirty years ago, to the Boze 

160 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

ladies when they came to see their prisoner^ at the Con- 
ciergerie ; and they covered these remnants of material with 
tears and kisses. The Queen suffered from one great privation. 
She was not allowed to have any kind of needle, and she 
particularly liked occupation and work. I noticed that from 
time to time she pulled out the coarse threads of the canvas 
that served as a wall-paper and was nailed along the walls on 
wooden frames ; and with these threads, which she polished 
with her hand, she made a kind of braid, and made it very 
evenly too, using her knee for a cushion and some pins for 
needles. 

Her taste for jflowers had been, by her own confession, a 
veritable passion. At first we used now and then to put a 
bouquet on her little oak table, but M. Lebeau did not dare to 
countenance this indulgence. He was so much afraid of me 
for the first few days after he arrived that he had a large 
screen made, seven feet high, with a view to hiding the 
prisoner from me while I was bringing in the meals or clean- 
ing the room. I saw this screen, but it was never used for 
this purpose. Lebeau contented himself with the one we 
gave the Queen in Madame Richard's time, which was only 
four feet high. This was used as a kind of curtain beside the 
Queen's bed, and separated her in some degree from the 
gendarmes while she was occupied with her toilet, which the 
barbarity of those in authority forbade her to perform in 
private ! A convict called Barassin ^ was employed for part of 
the menial work in her room. . . . 

When she rose in the morning she put on some little low 
slippers, and every second day I brushed her pretty black 
prunella shoes, whose heels were made a la Saint- Huherty^ 
about two inches high. Sometimes the gaoler Avas called 
away to see about something urgent and indispensable in con- 
nection with the prison, and at such times he left me in the 
constabulary officer's charge. One day, to my astonishment, 

^ Boze was a painter of some repute. The Boze ladies kept up their 
relations with Rosalie Lamorlidre until after the Revolution of 1830. 
(Seepage 177.) 

'•^ I believe that this convict, who is supposed to have been one of the 
moutons of the Conciergerie, that is to say one of the spies charged with 
denouncing the prisoners, was a relation of Madame Richard. For her 
maiden name was M. A. Barassin. 

161 M 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

this officer took up one of the Queen's shoes himself, and 
using the point of his sword, scratched off the mildew that 
came from the damp bricks, as I was myself doing with my 
knife. The imprisoned priests and nobles watched our pro- 
ceedings from the yard, through the grating that divided us 
from them. Seeing that this officer of constabulary was a 
good fellow, they implored me to come close to them, so that 
they might see the Queen's shoe near at hand. They took it 
from me, and passing it from hand to hand, they covered it 
with kisses. 

Madame Richard, on account of a law that had just been 
passed, had hidden all her plate. On the Queen's table, 
therefore, the plates and dishes were of tin,^ which I kept as 
clean and well-polished as I possibly could. 

Her Majesty had a fairly good appetite. She cut her 
chicken in two : that is to say, it sufficed her for two days. 
She stripped the bones with incredible ease and care. She 
never left any of the vegetables that composed her second 
course. 

^ Dossier F76711 in the National Arcliives contains a curious letter, 
written in 1816 by the Sieur Dufengray, private secretary to the Prefect of 
the Somme. "In 1793," he says, "three or four days after the Queen's 
death, the too-famous Chaumette, Procureur of the Commune of Paris, 
brought to Mdme. Cornu, a woman who dealt in toys and turnery in the 
Rue Saint-Barthelemy, at the sign of the Main cVOr, a tin plate which the 
Queen had used at her meals throughout her imprisonment in the 
Conciergerie, and on which she had written in circles, from the centre to 
the circumference, on the inside in Italian and on the outside in German. 
The reason Chaumette took this plate to Mme. Cornu was that he wished 
her to have a sort of tripod made to hold this trophy, which was then to be 
put under glass. The plate was with Mme. Cornu for an hour, at the end 
of which time Chaumette came to fetch it again, saying that he had 
changed his mind." 

On receiving this letter Louis XVIII. ordered a search to be made. The 
police made inquiries, and at No. 34 Rue des Bernardins found Mme. 
Cornu, extremely old, infirm and decrepit, living with her daughter. 
They both remembered the tin plate, which was, they declared, 
covered with Greek characters traced in circles, with several French 
words, notably these : Aux meres malheureuses. Chaumette had brought 
it, and had said to them : " It is the plate used by the Queen in 
the Conciergerie ; I wish to keep it ; make a stand for it so that it can be 
seen on both sides." And at the same time he ordered a vase, in which, he 
declared, the ashes of a great man (?) were to be kept. The plate re- 
mained for three or four months with Mme. Cornu and her daughter 
without their taking the work in hand. One of their workmen wished to 
copy the characters traced by the Queen, but was forbidden to do so. 
Chaumette came back about a week before his death, and took away this 
precious relic. No one knows who became possessed of it. 

162 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

When she had finished she said grace in a very low voice ; 
then rose, and began to walk about. This was the signal for 
our departure. After the affair of the carnation I was for- 
bidden to leave so much as a glass at her disposal. One day 
M. de Saint-Leger, the American, who was coming from the 
registrar's office and was on his way to the yard with his 
companions, noticed that I was carrying a glass half filled 
with water. The Creole said to me : " Did the Queen drink 
the water that has gone from this glass ? "" I answered that 
she did. With a quick gesture M. de Saint-Leger uncovered 
his head and drank the water that remained, with every 
indication of respect and pleasure. 

Her Majesty, as I have said already, had neither chest of 
drawers nor cupboard in her room. When her little stock of 
linen arrived from the Temple she asked for a box to put it 
in, to keep it from the dust. Madame Richard did not dare 
to repeat this request to the prison authorities, but she per- 
mitted me to lend a cardboard box to the Queen, who 
welcomed it with as much pleasure as if she had been given 
the most beautiful piece of furniture in the world. 

The prison system at that time did not allow looking- 
glasses to be supplied, and every morning Madame repeated 
her request for one. Madame Richard permitted me to lend 
my little glass to the Queen. To offer it to her made me 
blush, for the mirror had been bought on the quays, and had 
cost me no more than twenty-five sous in assignats. I seem 
to see it still. It was edged with red, and had Chinese faces 
painted on each side of it. The Queen accepted this little 
glass as though it were quite an important affair, and Her 
Majesty used it till the last day of her life. 

As long as Madame Richard was there the Queen's meals 
were prepared with care, and indeed I might say with refine- 
ment. Everything that was bought for her was the best of 
its kind, and in the market there were three or four women 
who knew the gaoler well by sight, and gave him their 
tenderest chickens and their finest fruit. " For our Queen," 
they said with tears. 

After Richard and his family were sent to prison we no 
longer went to market ourselves, but the tradespeople came 

163 M 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

to the Law Courts and spread out the articles of food, one by 
one, in the presence of the police and the corporal. 

The Queen, when she saw the new kind of dinner that was 
prepared for her, perceived at once that the affair of the car- 
nation had changed everything. But she never allowed a 
word of complaint to escape her. I brought her nothing but 
her soup and two other dishes. (Every day there was a dish 
of vegetables, and this was followed by chicken and veal 
alternately.) But I prepared these things to the best of my 
ability. Madame, whose love of cleanliness and daintiness 
was excessive, looked at my table-linen, which was always 
spotless, and seemed to be thanking me mutely for my con- 
sideration for her. Sometimes she gave me her glass to fill. 
She drank nothing but water, and had drunk nothing else at 
Versailles, as she sometimes recalled in talking to us. I 
admired the beauty of her hands, whose charm and whiteness 
were indescribable. 

Without moving the table she took up her position 
between it and the bed. I was then able to see the delicacy 
of all her features, which were clearly visible in the light from 
the window ; and one day I noticed here and there a few very 
slight marks of small-pox — so slight that they were imper- 
ceptible at a distance of four or five yards. In Lebeau's time 
Madame did her hair every day in his presence and mine, 
while I was making her bed and spreading out her dress on a 
chair. I noticed patches of white hair on her temples. 
There was none on the top of her head nor in the rest of her 
hair. Her Majesty told us that this was due to her distress 
on the 6th October. 

Madame de Lamarliere, who is still alive and residing in 
Paris, begged me more than once in Madame Richard's time 
to procure some of the Queen's hair for her to put in a locket. 
I might easily have done this, for Her Majesty cut her hair 
from time to time. 

After the affair of the carnation Madame de Lamarliere 
was unable for a long time to obtain permission to see her 
husband, who was a prisoner. 

Before the disgrace of Richard's family the Queen's washing 
had been done by Madame Saulieu, our ordinary laundress, 

164 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

whose house was a few yards from the Archbishop's palace. 
After the unlucky business of the carnation our laundress did 
not come any more. The registrar of the Revolutionary 
Tribunal took away the Queen's personal linen, except her 
caps and fichus, and it seems that her chemises were only doled 
out to her one by one at long intervals. . . She asked me 
privately for some underlinen, and I at once put some of my 
chemises under her bolster. 

On the fourth day after her arrival at the Conciergerie the 
prison authorities took away her watch, which she had 
brought from Germany when she came here to be Dauphine. 
I was not with her when this unpleasant incident took place, 
but Madame Richard spoke of it in our room, and said the 
Queen had wept bitterly when she was made to give up this 
gold watch. 

Fortunately the commissioners did not know that she 
wore a very valuable oval locket, hung round her neck, 
by a thin black cord. This locket contained some of the 
young King's curly hair, and a portrait of him. It was 
wrapped in a little yellow kid glove, which had been worn by 
M. le Dauphin. 

The Queen, when she came from the Temple, had still two 
pretty diamond rings and her wedding-ring. The two 
diamond rings, though she was unconscious of the fact, 
formed a sort of plaything for her. As she sat dreaming, 
she would take them off and put them on again, and slip 
them from one hand to the other several times in a minute. 
After the affair of the carnation her little room was in- 
spected several times : her drawer was opened, her person 
searched, and her chairs and table overturned. The wretches 
who did this saw the glitter of the diamonds in her two 
rings, and took them away from her, telling her they would 
be returned to her when everything was over. 

After this she was liable to receive unexpected visits of 
this kind in her cell at any hour of the day or night : 
and the architects and the prison authorities were perpetually 
coming to make sure that the iron bars and the walls were 
perfectly secure. I could see that they were constantly 
in a state of perplexity. They said to each other : " Could 

165 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

she not escape this way, or escape that way ? '*'' They 
allowed neither us nor themselves a single moment of 
relaxation. 

Their fear of treachery within or of some surprise from 
without kept them constantly about us in the Conciergerie, 
They ate their meals unceremoniously at the gaoler's table, 
and every day I was obliged to prepare a large supply 
of food for fifteen or eighteen of these people. 

I once heard Madame Richard say : " The Queen does not 
expect to be tried. She still hopes her relations will insist 
on her being given up to them : she told me so with the most 
charming candour. If she leaves us, Hosalie, you will be her 
lady's maid ; she will take you with her."" 

After the affair of the carnation the Queen seemed to 
me to be anxious, and much more alarmed than before. 

She thought deeply, and sighed, as she walked to and 
fro in the cell. One day she noticed, in a room barred 
with iron opposite to her own windows, a prisoner, a woman, 
praying with clasped hands and eyes raised to heaven. 

" Rosalie,'" said this noble, good princess to me, " look 
up there at that poor nun : how earnestly she is praying to 
God ! " 

No doubt the nun was praying for the Queen. The 
ladies in the prison spent all their time in this way. 

My father came from the country to see me. As no one 
had been allowed to enter the prison since the Carnation 
Conspiracy he had the greatest difficulty in obtaining leave 
to see me, and was escorted to my very room. M. Lebeau 
said to him : " I am forbidden to receive visits or allow 
others to receive them. My own family does not come in 
here. Do not be more than four or five minutes with your 
daughter, — and, my good fellow, do not come again." I was 
not even able to offer my father any refreshment. Showing 
him a fowl that was on the spit I said to him in a low voice : 
"That is for the poor Queen, whom we have here." My 
father sighed ; and we parted. 

One day while I was making the Queen's bed I dropped 
the day's paper, which I had tucked under my fichu ; and I 
discovered what I had done when we were upstairs again 

166 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

in our rooms. I was greatly troubled, and confessed to M. 
Lebeau what had happened. He was much more disturbed 
than I, for he was naturally timid. " Come quickly,"" he said, 
"come back to the cell. Take that bottle of fresh water, 
which we will change for the other. I see no way out of 
this!^^ 

We had to apply to the gendarmes again : then we went 
into the Queen's room, and I found my newspaper, which she 
had not noticed. 

The Queen, who had suffered much discomfort from the 
heat of the month of August, suffered equally from the cold ^ 
and damp of the first fifteen days of October. 

She complained of it in her gentle way ; and as for 
me, I was mortally distressed that I could do nothing to 
lessen her suffering. I never failed in the evening to take 
her night-dress from under the bolster, and run up to our own 
room to warm it well. Then I replaced it under the bolster, 
together with the large fichu that the Queen wore at 
night. 

She noticed these little attentions, which were the natural 
outcome of my loyalty and respect, and she thanked me 
for them with a glance as full of friendliness as if I had 
done more than my simple duty. She had never been allowed 
any lamp or candle, and I prolonged as much as possible 
the various little preparations for the night, so that my 
revered mistress might not be left in solitude and darkness 
until the latest moment possible. As a rule she had no light 
by which to go to bed except the feeble glimmer of the 
distant lamp in the Cour des Femmes. 

On the 12th October, about two hours after she had gone 
to bed, the judges of the Tribunal came to subject her to a 
strict examination ; and the next morning, when I went to 
make her bed, I found her walking rapidly to and fro in her 
wretched cell. I felt as though my heart would break, and 
dared not let my eyes dwell on her. 

^ When Girard, the constitutional cHr& of Saint-Landry, went into the 
Queen's cell on the 16th October, to accompany her to the scaffold, he 
found her quite numb, and complaining " that her feet were deadly cold." 
Girard advised her to lay her pillow upon her feet, and the Queen took hia 
advice. 

167 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

For several days previous to this she had no longer been 
alone. ^ An officer had been put into her cell to watch her. 

At last that terrible day, the 15th October, dawned. By 
eight o'clock in the morning she had gone up into the 
Court to suffer the ordeal of her trial, and as I do not 
remember taking any sort of food to her on that day it 
would seem that she was made to go up there fasting. 

During the morning I heard some people discussing the 
trial. " Marie Antoinette will get out of it," they said ; 
" she answered like an angel : she will only be banished."" 

At about four o''clock in the afternoon the gaoler said to 
me : " The proceedings are suspended for three-quarters 
of an hour, but the prisoner will not come down. Go up 
there quickly : they are asking for some broth." 

I instantly took up some excellent soup that I was keeping 
in reserve on my range, and went up to find the Queen. 

As I was on the point of entering the room where she was 
a superintendent of police called Labuzire, a little man 
with a broken nose, snatched the bowl of soup from my 
hands and gave it to his mistress, a young woman who was 
greatly over-dressed. " This young woman," he said to me, 
" is extremely anxious to see the Widow Capet, and this is a 
grand opportunity for her to do so." Whereupon the 
woman went off carrying the soup, half of which was spilt. 

It was in vain that I begged and implored Labuziere : he 
was all-powerful and I was obliged to submit. What must 
the Queen have thought when she received her bowl of soup 
from the hands of a stranger ! 

At a few minutes past four on the morning of the 16th 
October we were told that the Queen of France was con- 
demned. I felt as though a sword had pierced my heart, and 
I went to cry in my own room, smothering my groans and 
sobs. The gaoler was grieved to hear of the sentence, but 
he was more accustomed to such things than I, and he 
affected to be unconcerned. 

At about seven o'clock in the morning he told me to go down 

1 This tends to prove that since she had been moved into her new cell, 
that is to say, since the 13th September, the Queen had no longer been 
watched by gendarmes. 

168 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE L AMORLIERE 

to the Queen and ask her if she required anything to eat. 
As I entered the cell, where two lights were burning, I 
perceived an officer of constabulary sitting in the left-hand 
corner, and as I drew near to Madame I saw she was stretched 
upon her bed, dressed all in black. 

Her face was turned towards the window, and she was 
supporting her head with her hand. " Madame," I said to 
her tremblingly, " you ate nothing yesterday evening, and 
hardly anything during the day. What would you like 
to have this morning ? " The Queen was weeping bitterly. 
She answered : " I shall never need anything again, my girl : 
everything is over for me." I took the liberty of persisting. 
" Madame,"" I said, " I have kept some broth and some 
vermicelli on the range : you require support : let me bring 
you something." 

The Queen, weeping still more bitterly than before, said to 
me : " Rosalie, bring me some broth." I went to fetch it. 
She sat up, but could hardly swallow a mouthful or two. I 
declare before Heaven that she took no more nourishment 
than that 

A little time before it was broad daylight a priest 
came to the Queen, with the sanction of the Government, and 
offered to hear her confession. Her Majesty, hearing from 
himself that he had a cure in Paris, understood that he had 
taken the oath, and refused his ministrations. The incident 
was discussed in the prison. 

When it was daylight, that is to say at about eight o'clock in 
the morning, I went back to Madame to help her to dress, 
as she had told me to do when she took the drop of broth 
sitting on her bed. Her Majesty went into the little space 
that I usually left between the folding bed and the wall. 
She herself unfolded a chemise that had probably been 
brought to her in my absence, and having signed to me to 
stand in front of her bed so as to hide her from the gendarme, 
she stooped down behind the bed, and slipped off her dress 
in order to change her underlinen for the last time. The 
officer of gendarmerie came forward instantly, and standing 
by the head of the bed watched the Queen's proceedings. 
Her Majesty quickly threw her fichu over her shoulders, and 

169 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

with the greatest gentleness said to the young man : " In the 
name of decency, monsieur, let me change my linen without 
being watched." 

" It is impossible for me to allow it," answered the gen- 
darme roughly ; " my orders are to keep my eye on you, 
whatever you are doing." 

The Queen sighed, slipped her chemise over her head for 
the last time as cautiously and modestly as possible, and then 
dressed herself, not in the long black dress that she wore 
before her judges, but in the loose white gown that she 
usually wore in the morning. Then, unfolding her large 
muslin fichu, she crossed it under her chin. 

I was so much disturbed by the gendarme''s brutality that 
I did not notice whether the Queen still had M. le Dauphin's 
portrait, but I was glad to see that she carefully rolled up 
her soiled chemise, slipping it into one of her sleeves as 
though into a sheath, and then squeezing it into a* space 
that caught her eye, between the old canvas on the wall and 
the wall itself. 

On the previous day, knowing that she was going to 
appear in public and before her judges, she had raised her hair 
a little, for the sake of appearances. She had also fastened to 
her lawn cap, with its little plaited trimming at the edge, the 
two hanging lappets that she kept in the cardboard box ; and 
under these mourning lappets she had neatly fastened a piece 
of black crape, Avhich made her a pretty widow's head-dress. 

To go to the scaffold she wore only the simple lawn cap, 
with no lappets nor other sign of mourning ; but having 
only one pair of shoes^ she kept on her black stockings and 
prunella shoes, which were neither out of shape nor spoilt, 
though she had worn them for the seventy-six days that she 
had been with us. 

I left her without daring to say a word of farewell, or 
make a single curtsey to her, for I feared to compromise 
or distress her. I went away to my own room to cry, and 
to pray for her. 

^ M. Campardon observes that Rosalie was mistaken, for the inventory 
taken after Marie Antoinette's death mentions one pair of new shoes and 
two pairs of old ones. 

170 



NARRATIVE OF ROSALIE LAMORLIERE 

When she had left this hateful building, the chief usher 
of the Tribunal, accompanied by three or four men employed, 
like himself, in the Courts, came to the gaoler and asked for 
me. He told me to follow him to the Queen"'s cell, where 
he allowed me to take possession of my looking-glass and my 
cardboard box. As for the other things that had belonged 
to Her Majesty, he told me to wrap them up in a sheet. 
The men made me put everything into the bundle, even 
a straw that had been dropped, I do not know how, on 
the floor of the room ; and they carried off these wretched 
spoils of the best and most unhappy princess that ever 
lived ! 

P.S. — About ten or eleven days before the trial, a certain 
constabulary officer, in whom she seemed to have great con- 
fidence, had been placed on guard in her cell. His name was 
de S'Ane, and it was he who, during the trial, took her a glass of 
water, which drew down upon him a great deal of persecution. 
He was arrested and tried. 

I was shown a portrait of him a little time ago, in a room 
at the Quatre-Nations. It is very good — I recognised it 
instantly. 



171 



NOTES BY 
MONSEIGNEUR DE SALAMON 

(1796) 

In the Soiwetiirs de l' Internonce a Paris pendant la Revohdion ^ 
there are to be found a few details that complete the story of 
Rosalie Lamorliere. 

Monseigneur de Salamon^ being confined in the Conciergerie 
in 1796:, renewed there his acquaintance with the gaoler 
Richard^ whom he had known in the days of the old r^gime^ 
when he was in the habit of inspecting prisons as a Commissioner 
of the Coui-t. 

" I shall have to make you sleep under lock and key," said 
this good fellow to me ; " but during the day you can be in 
my rooms, you can have your meals with me, and you can see 
anyone you like, as long as you tell people to apply to me. 
. . . And you shall have a stove in your room, and you shall 
sleep on the two mattresses of that poor woman *" — he meant 
the Queen — " who died on the scaffold. . . . They cost me a 
great deal," he added ; " it was for having bought them that 
I had six months' imprisonment in the Madelonnettes." 

Richard's cook was a woman who deserved to live in a 
better place ; ... it was she who brushed Her Majesty's boots 
every morning. " And they were so dirty," she said, " because 
of the dampness of the prison, that one would have thought 
the Queen had just been walking in the Rue Saint-Honore." 

She also described to me how the nobles who were at that 
time imprisoned in the Conciergerie came every morning, 
1 Published by Plon. 

172 



NOTES BY MONSEIGNEUR DE SALAMON 

during their daily walk, to kiss the shoes of that unhappy 
princess. 

This was the same servant who, when she saw that the 
Queen was going to the scaffold without either cap or fichu, 
placed on her head a cotton cap that was quite new — for 
she had herself put it on for the first time that morning, 
and threw her own handkerchief round the Queen''s 
shoulders.^ . . . 

I secretly confided to this servant how much I recoiled from 
the idea of going into my prison, and above all from being left 
in there under lock and key. She lost no time in repeating 
this to her master, and persuaded him to have the door 
opened at daybreak. 

On the first morning that I benefited from this measure a 
pug dog came into the room as the door opened, and after 
jumping on my bed and exploring it all over, ran out again. 
This was the Queen's pug, which Richard had obtained pos- 
session of, and treated with the greatest care. The dog''s 
object in coming in like that was to smell his mistress's mat- 
tresses. I saw him behave in this way every morning at the 
same hour, for three whole months, and in spite of all my 
efforts I was never able to catch him. I continued to spend 
the evenings with Richard, and we prolonged our conversa- 
tions until far on into the night. He told me a number of 
very interesting anecdotes about the victims he had seen go to 
the scaffold. 

It would take too long to repeat them here ; and moreover 
I have forgotten many of them. I remember, however, 
baving heard him say that every evening the gendarmes had a 
game of piquet in the Queen's presence. Leaning on the back 
of a chair she would watch them play, or else would spend this 
time in mending her pelisse of black taffetas. 

Richard often went to see the Queen and ask hei" if there 
were nothing she required. She never failed to express her 
thanks ; only, according to Richard, she was a little too solemn 
over it. 

One day she asked him if he had ever kept a hotel. 

^ This excellent woman was afterwards employed aa cook by the 
Marqi;ise de Crequi. — [Note by Mgr. de Salamon.) 

173 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

" Oh dear, no, Madame ! " he answered. " I have been in 
prisons almost ever since I was born." 

" I asked because everything you give me to eat is excel- 
lent." 

" I admit," replied Richard, " that I go to mariiet myself, 
and buy everything of the best that I can find there." 

" Oh," answered the Queen, " how kind you are, Monsieur 
Richard ! " 

And Richard added that the Queen''s favourite dish was 
duck. 



174 



THE INQUIRY OF 
MADAME SIMON-VOUET 

(1836) 

We have called attention to the fact that we owe the narrative 
of Rosalie Lamorliere to the pen of Lafont d'Aussonne^ the too- 
imaginative biographer of Marie Antoinette. Our distrust of 
that writer is so great that we should have hesitated to accept 
Rosalie's story if we had not been in a position to prove its 
authenticity. 

From this point of view the following pages are doubly 
interesting ; for they satisfy us as to the truth of Rosalie 
Lamorliere's preceding narrative, while at the same time they 
give us a glimpse of her old age. 

It will, no doubt, surprise the reader to learn that Marie 
Antoinette's daughter alloAved the servant who helped her 
mother during her last days to die in a hospital. Much has been 
said of the proverbial ingratitude of the Bourbons. Perhaps 
Rosalie Lamorliere may be regarded as exemplifying it and being 
its victim. 

And yet it is possible that we ought to look at these things 
from a wider standpoint, and refrain from judging the past in the 
positive, practical spirit of our own time. In those days men 
devoted themselves to their King as we devote ourselves now to 
our country ; loyalty and duty were words endowed with a 
definite meaning, which admitted of no discussion. It may be 
that these gratuitous sacrifices ai'oused nobler feelings than the 
desire for promotion, or a pension, or for some empty honour. 

In the history of the Revolution we find many examples of 
these fine social virtues. How many royalists died for the 
Monarchy — which took little interest in them and from which 
they had nothing to expect — with a calmness that was not 

175 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

entirely free from a sort of fanaticism^ suggestive of the faith of 
the early martyrs ! Rosalie Lamorliere, in the heart of a servant^ 
had something of that rare disinterestedness that was the glory 
of ancient France. Those who devoted themselves without any 
thought of payment were the best of all ; and such was this 
poor girl. Her memory is less injured by her having died in the 
hospital than it would have been had her last years been spent 
in the managing of some big lottery-office^post-office^ or tobacco- 
shop. None the less I should have preferred^ on other grounds^ 
that the servant who shared her chemises with Marie Antoinette 
had not been reduced^ after the return of the Bourbons^ to living 
alone in a state that bordered on destitution. I cannot help 
thinking of that good girl sewing into her shroud her last 
remaining relics of the prisoner of the Templcj while Lepitre 
whoj as early as 1793:, had been generously paid for a devotion 
he had not shown, was parading his pseudo-loyalty and his 
imaginary coux'age, and receiving, as a reward for the grand 
deeds he had not accomplished, the ribbon of the Legion of 
Honour. 

It was in connection with a book that appeared in 1 8.S8 with 
the title : Marie Antoinette devant le XIX^ siecle that Madame 
Simon- Vouet undertook, about the year 1835, the inquiry of 
which we are about to read an account. 

The incompatibility of the various descriptions of Marie 
Antoinette's imprisonment in the Conciergerie, and the 
incredibility of the romantic episodes narrated by most of 
the writers on the subject, decided me to confine myself to 
the facts that came out in the trial, and to the incomplete 
but truthful revelations of the counsel for the Queen. 

To do this was to leave an immense gap in my work ; but 
nevertheless I was determined not to fill it up with the 
fictitious or forged papers that had appeared in connection 
with this interesting period in Marie Antoinette's life. At 
this time I had not seen the documents supplied to M. Lafont 
d'Aussonne by Rosalie and Lariviere the turnkey. 

While, in my perplexity, I was recalling the memories of 
my youth, it occurred to me that when I was a schoolgirl at 
Dijon with Madame le Jolivet, whose husband had died on 
the scaffold and had been confined in the Conciergerie at the 

176 



INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON-VOUET 

same time as the Queen, I had heard that lady speak warmly 
of the humane way in which Richard the gaoler and his 
wife treated the prisoners confided to their care. ... I used 
to delight in questioning Madame le Jolivet about the Con- 
ciergerie, and I learnt from her that Madame Richard often 
allowed the prisoners to meet their relations and have meals 
with them in a little back-room in her own quarters ; and it 
was to the kindness of this excellent woman that Madame le 
Jolivet owed the sad comfort of seeing her husband up to the 
very last. In the course of these frequent visits she had 
been struck with the faultless beauty of Madame Richard's 
young cook, and the former had told her in confidence that, 
as the Queen had been greatly attracted by this poor 
village girl whose attentions were so delicately shown, she 
had kept her to wait on the royal prisoner, for whom 
Rosalie was always able to devise some slight diversion. 
These recollections prompted me to make repeated inquiries, 
both in Paris and Versailles, with regard to the Richard 
family ; but all I learnt was that Madame Richard had been 
murdered by a prisoner whose life had just been saved by 
her exertions, and that after her death the beautiful cook 
had left the Conciergerie. 

However, I heard by chance from a man who was employed 
in the palace of Versailles that Madame Boze, who had lived 
in the palace till the revolution of July,^ was in the habit of 
speaking admiringly of the way the cook at the Conciergerie 
had behaved to the Queen, and said this girl was the only 
creature whose heroic devotion had at all alleviated the 
Queen's sufferings during the seventy-five days that she spent 
in the Conciergerie. Madame Boze had known the Richard 
family and Rosalie during the time of her husband's con- 
finement in the prison ; she had kept in touch with them 

^ " The palace of Versailles contained (under the Restoration) an entire 
population. The King granted rooms there to his old servants, and to 
people with good recommendations. In addition to the Governor, who 
naturally had his own quarters, there was a large number of families, and 
one could easily pay twenty visits within the walls of the building. These 
rooms were a little douceur presented to people who were ruined by the 
Revolution. They lived there in peace, and were protected by the majesty 
of the place. ... I knew many of these worthy people, and remember 
them perfectly." — (M6moires des autres, by the Comtesse Dash.) 

177 N 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

after the country had become more settled ; but she had left 
Versailles, and my informant did not know where she and her 
two daughters had gone. 

With nothing more definite than these vague clues I 
applied to the mairie of Versailles, and two days later, 
owing to the 'prompt and obliging inquiries of M. Varinot, 
the assistant-secretary, I learnt that Madame Boze lived in 
the village of Auteuil. I repaired thither on the following 
day. 

No sooner did Madame Boze and her excellent daughters 
understand the object of my visit than they began to talk to 
me with the confidence of old friends, and gave me several 
details of the Queen's first years at Versailles. . . . 

As for the Conciergerie, Madame Boze told me that the 
cook, Rosalie Lamorliere, was living in the Hospital for 
Incurables, in the Rue de Sevres, where I could question her 
myself. . . . One might find materials for an extremely 
interesting work in the details that Madame Boze gave me 
with regard to this heroic girl Rosalie, who had neither 
education nor money, nor interest, and yet exhibited the 
noblest virtues in spite of her obscurity. 

Leaving Madame Boze and her daughters at Auteuil, I 
proceeded at once to the Hospital for Incurables.^ The 
porter, whom I asked for Rosalie Lamorliere, told me that 
she went out every morning and did not return till the 
hour at which the provisions were served out. He added 
that Rosalie had no intercourse with the people in the 
house, never spoke to anyone, did not even respond to the 
civilities of her companions, and would probably refuse to 
enter into conversation with me. 

This information was anything but encouraging ; but 
nevertheless, as it was past eleven o'clock, I determined to 
wait for the first distribution of food, which was to take 
place at twelve, and meanwhile to walk to and fro before 
the main entrance of the hospital. Soon I noticed a 
number of good old dames walking as fast as their crutches 
would carry them, and showing by their haste and their 

^ Madame Simon-Vouet's visit to the Hospital for Incurables took place 
on the 1st December, 1836. 

178 



INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON- VOUET 

anxious faces that they were afraid of being late ; but not 
one of these could possibly be Rosalie. At last, at five 
minutes to twelve, I saw a woman come out of the little Rue 
Saint-Romain and walk towards the hospital. She was as 
poorly clad as those who had come before her, but her 
fastidious neatness was singularly striking. In figure she was 
slight and tall ; her steps were smooth and regular, and com- 
bined with her air of serenity gave a touch of solemnity to 
her gait. As she drew near to me her thoughtful expression, 
which indicated an abstraction so profound that no external 
emotion could touch her, made me very sure that this was 
Rosalie ; so I went forward, and begged her to grant me a 
few minutes' conversation in the hospital on a matter of 
important business. I hoped that this might rouse her 
curiosity, and I felt almost humiliated when, after glancing 
at me indifferently, she said coldly, without even condescend- 
ing to stand still : " You are mistaken, madame : / have no 
business."" " Oh, no," I cried, holding her back, " your name 
is Rosalie Lamorliere ; it is not of you that I wish to speak ; 
for pity's sake do not refuse what I ask ! " I do not knoAv 
what significance I put into these words, but Rosalie faltered, 
and turned upon me a look so piercing that I should have 
been disconcerted if my actions had been prompted by mere 
curiosity. " Very well, come with me, madame," she said, 
allowing me to keep her hand, which I had seized lest she 
should escape me. 

When I entered her tiny room I recognised the same 
neatness and care that had struck me so much in Rosalie's 
person. She gave me a chair, and remained standing before 
me as though waiting for my questions ; but I was entirely 
occupied in scrutinising her striking and still beautiful 
features, which were so little altered by time that I should 
have guessed her to be barely fifty years old. Rosalie 
evidently was conscious that for the moment my attention 
was fixed upon her, for my silent scrutiny seemed to cause 
her some embarrassment. She recovered herself, however, 
and said to me, with an air of indescribable gentleness and 
emotion : " It is about the Conciergerie, is it not, madame, 
that you wish to speak to me "i " I was delighted that she 

179 N 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Kad divined my object, and described to her my interview 
with the Boze ladies, who had known her at the Conciergerie ; 
and I expressed my desire to hear from her own mouth the 
details of all she had actually seen in that prison, my sole 
aim being the Queen's vindication, which I was at that time 
making my business. " I shall be happy," she answered, 
" to do as you wish ; but I warn you that I can add nothing 
to the statements I have already made to M. Lafont 
d'Aussonne, one of the Queen's biographers, who recorded my 
story with the greatest accuracy, though I can neither read 
nor write." 

As it was from this statement that we derived most of the 
details concerning the Conciergerie, we will omit from ou'' 
dialogue with Rosalie everything that has already been 
recorded elsewhere. 

Myself. 

... It must have been with the greatest interest that 
the august daughter of Marie Antoinette listened at the 
Tuileries to what you had to tell her, for had it not been foi 
you she would never have known of the strength and heroism 
with which those seventy-five days of martyrdom were 
endured. 

Rosalie, 

I am still enjoying the bounty of Madame la Duchesse 
d'Angouleme, though I have never been able to thank her for 
it ; and I would gladly have renounced all the benefits that 
have been heaped upon me for the sake of one sight of 
Madame' s daughter. 

I noticed that Rosalie, in referring to Marie Antoinette, 
never called her anything but Madame^ and I asked her 
whether, while she was waiting on the Queen, she had not 
addressed her otherwise. " No," she answered, " And yet, 
as I was often alone with Her Majesty, I might have addressed 
her as my sovereign ; but I shrank from everything that 
could recall her vanished greatness. I even always concealed, 
in her presence, the admiration with which her sublime courage 
inspired me. Alas ! I would gladly have served her on my 
knees, and yet I made a point of being no more outwardly 
respectful to her than to my mistress, Madame Richard." 

180 



INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON- VOUET 

Myself. 
I have been told that the benefits heaped upon you by 
Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme were limited to your 
admission into this institution, and a pension of two hundred 
francs which you lost at the revolution of July. 

Rosalie. 
True : but as I have done nothing to merit it I consider 
myself very fortunate to be here for life, and beyond the 
reach of want. 

Myself. 

You have not the least notion of how heroic yoilr devotion 
was. This does not surprise me, as I had been told it was 
the case ; but tell me, Rosalie, did not the friends who 
appealed to Madame la Dauphine on your behalf try to 
recover your little pension for you, by interesting the prin- 
cesses of the present royal family in you ? 

Rosalie. 
Such an idea would not have occurred to them any more 
than to me, for I have no claim to so remarkable a favour as 
that. 

Myself. 

Queen Marie Antoinette was described to the people as a 
violent, vindictive woman. Did you observe any signs of the 
character that was attributed to her, during the cruel treat- 
ment to which she was subjected in the Conciergerie ? Did 
she seem inspired, as many of her enemies have written that 
she was, by any thought or desire of revenge upon her 
persecutors ? 

Rosalie. 

I never heard her complain either of her fate or of her 
enemies, and the calmness of her words was always consistent 
with that of her appearance. There was, however, in this 
calmness of deportment something so deeply impressive that 
Madame Richard, and the gaoler Lebeau, and I, whenever we 
entered her room, stood awe-struck at the door, and dared 
not approach her till she begged us to do so in her gentle 
voice and gracious manner. 

181 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Myself. 
Did she speak of Louis XVI/s death, and did she seem to 
fear the same fate ? 

Rosalie. 

She said she was fortunate, but I had reason to think she 
imagined that she and her children would be sent to Austria. 

Myself. 
This persistent calmness of which you speak — did it not 
arise from a sort of moral collapse or insensibility, the effect 
of her sufferings and long imprisonment ? 

Rosalie. 
She was extremely sensitive, and never failed to notice our 
most insignificant attentions. She carried, concealed beneath 
her stays, a portrait of the young King and a curl of his 
hair, wrapped up in a little yellow kid glove that the child 
had worn ; and I noticed that she often hid herself behind 
her wretched truckle-bed to kiss these things and weep over 
them. One could speak to her of her misfortunes and 
circumstances without her showing any emotion or depression, 
but she wept continually at the thought of her deserted 
children. During the ill-health that arose from the critical 
state of her nerves, and ended only with her life, she begged 
us not to apply for any medical aid for her, since no doctor 
could remove the cause of her illness. She was searched 
several times at the Conciergerie, and the watch she wore on 
a very beautiful chain round her neck was cruelly taken from 
her. Only a few days before her death, however, she was 
still in possession of the locket containing the young King''s 
portrait. I do not know what became of it. 

Myself. 
Is it true, as certain authors of repute have declared in 
writing, that the Queen washed and mended her own linen in 
the Conciergerie ? 

Rosalie. 

She would have thanked Heaven if such a favour had been 
granted her. But she was condemned to the most complete 

182 



INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON-VOUET 

inactivity, and though she never complained I saw that she 
suffered a great deal from this state of idleness. 

Myself. 

Several people have boasted of having corrupted the gaoler 
and carried in various kinds of comforts to the Queen during 
her last hours. May one put any faith in their assertions ? 

Rosalie. 

No ; for even if they could have won over the gaoler 
Lebeau, the most timid and nervous of men, the courts and 
passages were filled with guards. Fouquier-Tinville and his 
agents, moreover, entered the Queen's cell at any hour of the 
day or night, and relentlessly made her rise on the pretext of 
searching her bed, and upset all her things. 

Myself. 

Did you see Marie Antoinette again after she was con- 
demned to death ? 

Rosalie. 

I went down to her cell by Lebeau's orders at about seven 
o'clock. Two candles, still alight but nearly burnt out, were 
on her little table : I presume they had been left there for 
her all night. The Queen was lying on her bed in her 
clothes ; she was still wearing her long black dress, A 
constabulary officer was seated in the farthest corner of the 
room, and seemed to be asleep. I approached Madame 
tremblingly, and begged her to take some broth that was 
quite ready on my range. She raised her head, looked at 
me with her customary gentleness, and answered with a sigh : 
" No, thank you, my girl : I need nothing more." And then 
as I turned away crying, either because she was afraid she 
had distressed me, or because she wished to see me again for 
the last time, she called me back to say : " Very well, then, 
Rosalie, bring me your broth ! " 

Myself. 

And did she take the broth when you brought it ? 

183 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Rosalie. 
Only a spoonful or two. Then she begged me to help her 
to dress. She had been told not to wear her mourning, 
because it might excite the people and make them insult 
her ; but we in the prison thought the real reason was that it 
was feared her position as the King's widow might excite 
interest. The Queen made no objection, and prepared her 
white morning wrapper. She had also contrived to have 
a clean chemise to die in, and I saw she meant to appear, 
as she had appeared on the day of her trial, as decently 
dressed as was possible in her state of complete destitution. 
When she was about to undress she slipped into the space 
between the wall and the truckle-bed, so as to be out of the 
officer's sight ; but that young man came forward insolently, 
and leant his elbows on the pillow in order to look at her. 
The Queen blushed deeply, and hastily covered herself with 
her large fichu ; then, clasping her hands, she turned beseech- 
ingly to the officer. " Monsieur," she cried, " in the name 
of decency let me change my linen without being watched ! " 

Myself. 

The man must have felt very much ashamed of his 
behaviour ? 

Rosalie. 

On the contrary, he answered roughly that his orders were 
not to lose sight of the prisoner for an instant. The Queen 
raised her eyes to heaven, and then looked at me without 
uttering a word, for I was accustomed to understand her 
every glance, and I took up my position so as to hide her as 
much as possible from the eyes of the officer. Then, kneeling 
behind her bed, with every precaution that her modesty could 
suggest, her Majesty succeeded in changing her clothes with- 
out even uncovering her shoulders or arms. 

When she was completely dressed she glanced round her 
room with an expression of great anxiety, as though seeking 
something that she feared she would not find. I was trying 
in vain to guess the cause of her anxiety when I saw her 
carefully fold up the soiled chemise she had just taken off, 

184 



INQUIRY OF MADAME SIMON-VOUET 

wrap it closely in one of her sleeves, and then with a look of 
intense satisfaction slip the little bundle into a hollow space 
that she had caught sight of in the wall, behind a strip of 
the canvas. 

Rosalie shoAved me the shroud into which she had sewn 
the scraps of lawn given her by Marie Antoinette ; and when 
I had touched these sacred relics with my lips, and clasped in 
my arms the poor creature whose strong soul and heroic 
spirit were dimly visible through the obscurity of her 
position, I left the hospital, with a heart full of admiration 
and sadness. 

As I left Versailles at the beginning of 1838, and retired 
to a place in the country a hundred leagues from Paris, it 
was impossible for me to see Rosalie again, as I had hoped 
and intended ; but before I went away my husband was able to 
ascertain that she was still alive, and enjoying perfect health 
in the Hospital for Incurables. 



185 



THE NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT 

WIDOW OF THE GAOLER AT THE CONCIERGERIE PRISON 

(September 11th — October 16th, 1793) 

When the Revolution broke out my husband was the gaoler 
of the prison of La Force. I shared his labours and brought 
up my children at his side. We witnessed the massacres of 
September 2nd and 3rd. He was fortunate enough to be 
the means of saving nearly two hundred prisoners, and he 
escaped with them. But to our sorrow we were unable to 
prevent the death of the most illustrious of the victims who 
perished on those fatal days.^ 

The murderers took possession of our house, our furniture, 
and our provisions, and as our object was to avoid seeing the 
horrors by which they disgraced themselves in our presence 
we abandoned to them everything that belonged to us. At 
last, when nothing was left for them to destroy, they went 
away. 

My husband returned to his post, and soon the prison was 
filled with all the faithful subjects of the King and the 
legitimate Monarchy, whose opinions made them suspicious 
characters in the eyes of the revolutionary tyrants. We 
determined to deceive the tyrants and alleviate the lot of the 
unfortunate prisoners, and sometimes our efforts were not 
in vain. 

At the time when the Queen was removed from the Temple 

to the Conciergerie, a lady who came to La Force to bring 

little comforts to one of the prisoners knew that we were 

acquainted with Michonis, one of the inspectors of police at 

^ Madame de Lamballe. 

186 



NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT 

that time. She confided to my husband her intention of 
persuading the inspector to introduce into the Queen's cell a 
certain Chevalier of Saint-Louis who wished to offer her his 
services. Michonis was a man of honour and was full of 
enthusiasm, and received the suggestion favourably. The 
lady asked us to dine at her country-house at Vaugirard.^ 
The brave Chevalier was present, and all the preparations 
were made to carry out the scheme. Michonis undertook to 
secure Richard's consent. The interview took place as it was 
described at the time, and I shall not repeat the details, 
which neither I nor my husband witnessed, and which, more- 
over, have been recorded in hundreds of other writings. To 
our great distress this self-sacrificing and courageous deed 
failed in its object. I never saw the lady again, nor the 
Knight of Saint-Louis, and in the course of the twenty-four 
years that have passed since we parted I have forgotten their 
names. I have reason to believe they are no longer alive, for 
it seems likely that they would have lost no time in coming 
forward, now that heaven has granted us happier times at last. 

Michonis was discharged from his post and put into prison. 
We were very anxious, my husband and I, on account of the 
revelations he might have made ; but his loyalty and dis- 
cretion were unfailing, and it is only right to pay this tribute 
to his memory. Some time afterwards he died on the 
scaffold, not ostensibly on account of this affair, but in 
connection with an alleged conspiracy in the prison, in which 
he was accused of being concerned. 

It was not long before Richard's dismissal followed. We 
were told of it by another inspector of police called Dangers, 
who was equally our friend. He added that there was some 
talk of replacing Richard by the horrible man Simon. My 
husband shuddered at the bare idea, and determined, on the 
spot, to propose himself for the post of the Queen's gaoler. 
We had the honour at that time of knowing M. Hue and 
M. Clery, and we informed them, separately, of our design, 
in which they encouraged us. Dangers undertook to see 
that our request was granted, and my husband was installed 
in the Conciergerie on the 11th September, 1793. 

^ It was a girl called Dutilleiil, Rougeville's mistress. 

187 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

When he entered the Queen's room she said to him, with 
the graciousness that never forsook her to the hour of her 
death : " Ah, here you are, M. Bault ! I am dehghted that 
it is you who have come here."" My husband had never had 
the honour of being in Her Majesty's presence, and could not 
conceive by what miracle she could have heard of a trans- 
action that had been so promptly and secretly carried out. 
We regarded the whole series of circumstances as a boon 
especially ordained by Providence. It made me happy to 
know that our attentions would be favourably received, 
and we redoubled our efforts to make them also useful. 
We asked no greater reward. If there were others who 
did not shrink from putting a price on their services, it was 
well known that my husband's devotion was inspired by 
motives too lofty to be affected by mercenary aims. 

It may easily be imagined that the adventure of Michonis 
and Richard had caused the prison rules to be carried out 
much more strictly than before. My husband M^as told that 
the accused, like the other prisoners, was to be supplied with 
the coarsest prison fare. " I can't allow that," he answered ; 
" she is my prisoner, and I am answerable for her with my 
life ; some attempt might be made to poison her, and no one 
but myself must arrange about her meals. Not a drop of 
water shall come in here without my permission." This was 
considered reasonable, and thenceforward I and my daughter 
were responsible for the meals. They were nothing re- 
markable, but they were, at least, wholesome and decent. 
The Queen was no longer given dirty water in an unwashed 
glass, as had hitherto been the brutal and insolent custom. 
We gave especial attention to this point, with regard to 
which she was extremely fastidious. 

There were still some kind hearts left that were not 
insensible to pity. A market-woman came one day to bring 
my husband a melon for her good Queen. Another offered 
some peaches. Everything reached its proper destination, 
but to avoid being blamed it was necessary to be very 
cautious. 

Similar incidents had already taken place in Richard's 
time, according to M, Hue. 

188 




o o 









9 > § 



rt ^ 






bO > 

a ^ 



189 



NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAUI.T 

I never entered the Queen's room throughout the whole 
time that my husband was in charge of her. In order to 
appear more particular^ he had made a rule that I was not 
to go in, and had reserved to himself alone the right of doing 
so. Moreover, he was always accompanied by two gendarmes, 
who watched his every movement. The worst kind of men 
were always carefully chosen to escort him.^ Often the 
inspectors of police, or the public prosecutor, or even some of 
the members of the Comite de Siirete Generale would come 
themselves on a visit of inspection. It was then that the 
most odious searches took place. One day they caught sight 
of an old piece of carpet that had been fastened, by my 
husband's orders, along the Queen's bed to keep out the 
dampness of the wall, and they expressed their dissatisfaction. 
" But don't you see," said my husband, " that its object is to 
deaden the sound, and prevent anything from being heard in 
the next room ? " They were greatly struck by his intelligence. 
" Quite right," they said ; " you did well." To deceive these 
wretches it was necessary to talk as they did. 

The unheal thiness of the room was such that Her Majesty's 
black dress, the only one she had as a change from the white 
dress she brought from the Temple, fell to pieces. My 
eldest daughter, whom I lost five years ago, put a new hem 
to it. I gathered up the old scraps and gave them away to 
several people who eagerly begged me for them. 

My daughter was kept constantly employed in mending 
linen and other garments, stockings, and shoes, which wore 
out completely. The care of the room, and everything to do 
with it, was entrusted to her ; she alone was allowed to enter 
for this purpose ; and it was also her office to arrange the 
Queen's simple coiffure every day — a duty from which she 
was not exempted even in the very hour of the final martyr- 
dom. I remember all these details as though the objects 
connected with them were still before me. The Queen had 
only three fairly fine chemises, of which one was trimmed 
with very beautiful Mechlin lace. 

They were given to her, one at a time, every ten days. 

This matter was attended to by the registrar's office of the 

^ They were not, then, always the name, as Lafont d'Aussonne declared. 

190 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Revolutionary Tribunal. No one would have dared to 
increase the precise number of her garments by so much as 
a handkerchief. The Queen occupied herself in writing out 
a list of her linen on the wall with the point of a pin. She 
also wrote other things there, but immediately after her 
departure a thick coat of paint was put over everything, 
and so it was all effaced. 

I have laid stress on these details — which may seem too 
minute — in order to show how useless and insane it would 
have been to attempt to supply the Queen openly with the 
least thing in addition to what was provided by the odious 
prison rules. That people who were brave and charitable, 
but also retiring and unknown, may have succeeded in taking 
her some object of the first importance, especially if it were 
inconspicuous, I am as ready to believe as though I had seen 
it — although it was before we went to the Conciergerie — 
because not only is the story quite credible, but it is founded 
on unexceptionable evidence. But that anyone should have 
succeeded in supplying her with a large quantity of luxuries, 
or even of ordinary comforts, it is impossible to imagine. 
The articles would not have reached their destination ; they 
would have vanished in the office of the Revolutionary 
Tribunal. The gaoler himself would not have been able, with- 
out the greatest danger, to secure the smallest portion for his 
prisoner. A single incident will suffice to show how com- 
pletely it would have been beyond his power. 

The Queen had wished to have an English cotton counter- 
pane. My husband undertook to speak to Fouquier-Tinville 
about it. " How dare you ask for such a thing ? ''"' cried the 
monster, foaming at the mouth with rage. " You deserve to 
be sent to the guillotine." We were filled with consternation. 
We provided the best substitute we could for the coverlet, and 
I had a mattress made of the best wool I could find, and 
replaced the prison mattress with it. It would be impossible 
to me to be false to the truth, or to boast of what I did not 
do, or rather of what I was not able to do. 

It has been my lot to see pious resignation and heroic 
constancy carried to the pitch of perfection, but there is no 
disguising the fact that it was Heaven's will that the Queen 

191 



NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT 

of France should drink the cup of sorrow to the dregs, and I 
shall never cease to regret that I did so little to temper its 
bitterness. Alas ! we could not save her life, but we at least 
endeavoured that her last moments might be undisturbed, 
and her royal person safe from every insult. 

In the meantime my husband was trying, with the most 
eager solicitude, to divine the Queen's smallest wishes. He 
devised various pretexts for visiting her more frequently. 
She had entrusted him with the care of her hair, and he 
arranged it every morning as best he could. 

If the most respectful care could have taken the place of 
skill the Queen would have been satisfied, and as it was she 
was good enough to appear so. She took this opportunity 
to say a few of those kind things that none could express 
more gracefully than she. One day she said to him, in 
allusion to his name : " I am going to call you 6o«, because 
that is what you are, and it is worth even more than being 
beau (Bault)." Another time, as she thanked him, she added : 
" I shall never be fortunate enough to reward you for what 
you do for me."" She never failed to ask him for news of her 
children and of Madame ^Elizabeth. Sometimes my husband 
was able to answer her when he had news through M. Hue, 
who had kept up a correspondence with the Temple, and 
had the courage, too, to make his way into the Conciergerie 
from time to time. Her goodness, her sweetness, her sensi- 
bility, combined with so much courage, moved us to tears. 
We were glad when we were able to weep in the solitude of 
our own rooms, for it would have been imprudent to show 
any emotion before the savage satellites of the Commune, 
who haunted us throughout the day. 

The Queen, surrounded as she was by many dangers, was 
always afraid of compromising the people who seemed to 
take an interest in her fate. She was obliged to control her 
features, her words, and even her slightest gestures. A glance, 
a word, a sign, would have sufficed to make her suspected of 
an understanding with her faithful guardian, and all would 
have been lost. But one day she thought she had sufficient 
mastery over her own movements to slip into my husband''s 
hand, without being seen, something that she had secretly 

192 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

prepared. The action, however, was either not prompt enough 
or not sufficiently concealed, and the two gendarmes, perceiving 
it, sprang upon my husband, crying in a fury : " What has 
she just given you ? '"' He was obliged to open his hand and 
show what had just been put into it. It was a pair of gloves 
and a lock of hair,^ which were instantly seized and taken to 
Fouquier's office. 

We did not doubt that the Queen intended these things 
to be given to her children, and we shared to the full her 
disappointment on this occasion. 

But the Queen was not discouraged, for a mother's heart is 
ingenious and its strength is increased by sorrow. The idea 
came to her to draw out some of the threads of the carpet 
attached to her bed, and with them to plait a kind of garter 
with the help of two tooth-picks, the only implements that 
her wretched persecutors had left to her, for they had refused 
to allow her knitting-needles. When the work was done she 
let it drop one day at her feet, as my husband was entering 
her room. He instantly divined the Queen's intention, and 
as he went quickly towards her pulled out his handkerchief, 
which seemed to slip from his hand. It covered the garter, 
and he picked up both together. We kept this precious plait 
religiously, till I gave it to M. Hue when he was about to 
accompany Her Royal Highness Madame to Vienna. He 
gave it to her when he joined her at Huningue, as he was 
good enough to record in his work entitled: Dernieres annees 
du regne et de la vie de Louis JCVI, page 352. 

In order that the gendarmes might no longer stay in the 
Queen's room, where they spent the day drinking and playing 
cards and smoking, with nothing between her and them but a 
screen that divided the room into two parts, my husband, 

^ As early as March 22nd, 1814, the Gazette de France recorded this 
Incident, which I had described long before to the writer of the article. 
In 1816 the gloves and the lock of hair were discovered in Courtois' house 
with the Queen's letter, and thus Providence allowed the truth of my 
assertions to be verified by events. These two articles had passed from 
Fouquier's hands into those of Robespierre, and Courtois had found them, 
together with the letter, in Robespierre's house when his papei'S were 
searched. Courtois did not mentioia this discovery in his report ; he held 
back the information, as he confessed himself, for a more favourable 
occasion. — {Note hy Aladavie Baiilt. ) 

193 o 



NARRATIVE OF MADAME BAULT 

pleading his responsibility, had put the key in his own pocket. 
Thenceforward the two soldiers sat at the outer door, and 
their oaths and curses and blasphemies no longer oifended the 
ears of the august prisoner, nor interrupted her religious 
meditations. She could not work, as I have already said, 
owing to the lack of light and of means of employment. 
She read books, her favourite being The Voyages of Captain 
Cook, which my husband had procured for her. The greater 
part of her time was devoted to prayer. She was often seen 
engaged in this pious occupation, which filled nearly every 
moment of her life, especially after the memorable incident 
that occurred in Richard's time.^ 

In spite of the presence of the two sentries posted under 
the window, the prisoners who were allowed to walk about 
the yard were able, by talking very loudly, to inform the 
Queen of anything that was likely to interest her. It was 
thus that she knew beforehand the day on which she was to 
appear before the Tribunal. 

I shall only say one word concerning that horrible cata- 
strophe. My husband's agony at that time was a thousand 
times more terrible than when, a few years later, the last 
moment of his own life was drawing near. He knew every 
detail, minute by minute, of that monstrous trial with its 
endless insults, which made the very sentence of death itself 
appear almost a boon. The night was far advanced when the 
Queen left the Tribunal. Her courage was unshaken, her 
bearing noble as ever, but modest and resigned. My husband 
was present when she returned : she asked him for writing- 
materials, and was instantly obeyed. He said to me that 
very day : " Your poor Queen wrote a letter and gave it to 
me, but I was not able to deliver it to the person to whom it 
was addressed : I was obliged to take it to Fouquier."" 

To us, as to the whole French nation, the fate of this relic 
of maternal love, and piety, and courage, was long unknown. 
It has now been given back to us in one of those wonderful 

^ I knew even then that a worthy priest, calling himself Charles, braved 
everything to enter the prison and give the consolations of religion to the 
prisoners ; but I had not the honour of knowing him. I have since learnt 
that this courageous apostle of the Faith was M. I'abbe Magnin, now the 
Cure of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. — {Note by Madame Baidt.) 

194 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

ways that are only possible to omnipotence, and are proofs 
of the unspeakable goodness of Heaven.^ 

Such are the chief circumstances of that unhappy time, as 
far as I can recall them. 

They sank so deeply into my heart that I have hitherto 
refrained from recording them in writing. I have now been 
begged to do so, in order to supplement the deficiencies and 
correct the inaccuracies of certain other narratives that have 
been hastily published, with no foundation but vague tradition. 
I have obeyed with no other object than to uphold the truth. 
At my age and in my position one can have no other motive. 
This is not an account of circumstances to which I am a 
stranger : it is my evidence with regard to events that con- 
cerned me personally : it is a document wherein I have not 
hesitated to record the facts to which I am one of the last 
remaining witnesses. I do it for the satisfaction of my 
conscience, the honour of my husband's memory, and the 
honour of my children, and, above all, I do it to express the 
devotion and homage due to the most exalted virtue that has 
for many a long year done honour to the dignity of the throne 
and earned the rewards of Heaven. 

^ See page 225. 



195 o 2 



THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION IN THE 
CONCIERGERIE 

There were many faithful royalists whose minds were greatly 
exercised with regard to the Queen's fate while she was 
imprisoned in the Conciergerie^ and there can be no doubt that 
attempts Avere made to rescue her. The Basset trial, of Avhich 
the original documents have been published by M. Campardon ; 
the affair of the carnation ; the million promised by Batz ; and 
the evidence of Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme herself, are 
incontrovertible proofs of the existence of various plots whose 
details we do not know, but whose reality we cannot deny. It 
is equally certain that several people succeeded, by means of 
bribes or otherwise, in making their way either into the Temple 
or into the prison of the Law Courts ; such as Jarjaye, Mrs. 
Atkins, Rougeville, Michonis — who, it is true, was obliged by 
his office to visit the Conciergerie — the painters Prieur and 
Kocharsky, Hue, the Citoyenne Laboull6e,i and perhaps others.^ 

1 "The wife of the hair-dresser Laboull6e, 83 Rue de Richelieu, whom the 
Queen to the day of her death called the little LaboulUe, often succeeded 
in visiting Marie Antoinette when she was in prison."— A. Challamel. 
Clubs co7itre-revolutionnaires. 

2 In a little volume published in 1815 and probably quite forgotten. 
Marie Antoinette d'Autriche, reine de France, by L. de Saint-Hugues, we 
find this strange anecdote : 

" Mme. Guyot, head nurse of the Hospice de rArchevech^, had formed 
a project for rescuing Marie Antoinette. To this end she had caused a 
request to be made, on the pretext of illness, for the removal of Her 
Majesty to the hospital established in the Archbishop's Palace, where 
M. Ray, with the help of M. Giraud, the surgeon at the H6tel-Dieu, had 
already broken and wrenched away the bar of a window opening into a 
covered way that led to the Seine, in the direction of the lie Saint-Louis. 
The barbarous Fouquier-Tinville, fearing lest his victim should escape 
him, would never consent to the transference. Then Mme. Guyot, in 
default of anything better, determined to brave every danger and take to 
the unhappy Queen some of those absolute necessaries of life which she 

196 



THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION 

It is therefore quite credible that if so many people were 
ready to risk their lives on the mere chance of eifecting a rescue^ 
there should be others whose devotion to the Queen took the 
form — with far more likelihood of success — of devising a way to 
provide her with the consolations of religion. 

There is no need for us to recall how persecution had given 
fresh life to the piety of a large section of the population. The 
monastic houses had been dissolved^ it is true ; but the monks, 
and above all the nuns, continued to live in community in little 
groups, hiding themselves with difficulty, contriving to attend 
Mass regularly, and resigning themselves to the martyrdom that 
they considered inevitable. These were excellent conditions for 
the development of heroism. The man who daily prepares him- 
self to die is surprised when death delays, and finally defies it. 
I believe that in the history of the Terror one might easily find 
many examples of this kind of courage. 

But indeed the facts as we know them do not need the support 
of this theory. We know that among the remnants of the 
religious congregations much anxiety was felt with regard to 
Marie Antoinette's approaching end : prayers were offered up 
for her : at Orleans, which was a notable centre of Catholicism 
during the Terror, the Church ordained nine days of prayer : and 
the Sisters of La Charite-Saint-Roch were tormented by the 
thought that the prisoner, who for more than a year had been 
deprived of all religious aid, might any day be put to death with- 
out having received a single word of consolation. 

was altogether without.^ She contrived to make the acquaintance of the 
gaoler's wife : and having done so begged her to accept some light 
refreshment, and ended by bewildering her with some sherry that was a 
present from a member of the Senate, who is still alive. Forgetting her 
responsibilities the woman fell asleep. Mme. Guyot then took to Marie 
Antoinette a white wrapper with trimming on it (this was the last dress 
worn by the Queen), and with it all the garments that were likely to be 
useful to her. Mme. de Blamont, the last heiress of the house of 
Chamboran — who was nineteen or twenty years old, had been enceinte for 
some months, and was condemned to death for no reason — was to be 
rescued with the Queen. Mme. de Blamont afterwards recovered her 
liberty. 

' ' The most careful search was made to discover the person who had 
dared to take these clothes to the Queen, but happily it was in vain. The 
courage and loyalty to the illustrious house of Bourbon, exhibited on this 
occasion by Mme. Guyot, are recorded in the first edition of Les Illustres 
pera4cut4s." 

We have not been able to discover the book to which L. de Saint-Hugues 
here alludes. 

^ See the evidence of the widow Bault on this point, page 191 

197 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

These simple^ devout creatures did not know that there were 
those within the walls of the prison itself whose minds were full 
of the same pious thoughts. 

There was in the Conciergerie at that time an eminent priest, 
the Abbe Emery, the head of the Seminary of Saint-Sulpice, 
whose influence over most of the Parisian clergy was very great. 
He had been imprisoned on the 3rd August, 1793, and continued 
from his cell, assisted from without by his friend M. Bechet, to 
carry on the functions of a director and to fulfil the duties of his 
ministry.^ The thing seems incredible : no matter : it is proved 
by incontestable evidence. 

The Abbe Emery received frequent visits in the Conciergerie. 
The Abbe Montaigu, and other refractory priests, had devised 
some way of entering the prison regularly and taking to the 
prisoner a pyx full of wafers, wrapped in a white handkerchief ; 
so that from the beginning of August 1 793 until after the 9th 
Thermidor not a day passed without the Mass being celebrated 
in the Conciergerie — that Conciergerie which Fouquier-Tinville 
imagined to be so closely guarded and so impenetrable.^ 

^ "In 1794 M. Bechet, director of the Seminary of Saint-Sulpice, who 
in Monseigneur de Juign^'s name fulfilled the functions of vicar-general, 
thought he ought to organise the work of ministering to the condemned 
prisoners, and a priest was chosen for each day of the week. The Abbe 
de Sarabucy the elder, then living at Milhaut, took Sunday ; the Abb6 
Renaud, Thursday ; the Abb6 Philibert, Wednesday. The names of the 
other priests are forgotten, but it is believed that the Abb6 K^ravenan 
was of their number." (From the unpublished manuscript of one of these 
priests, the Abbe Philibert Bruyan, who died Bishop of Grenoble. Quoted 
by the Abbe Delarc, in UEglise de Paris pendant la Revolution.) 

We know that the Abb6 Keravenan, who afterwards became the cur4 of 
Saint-Germain-des-Pres, gave absolution to Danton at the last. 

2 On this point we may quote the valuable testimony of one of the 
prisoners, the young soldier Barthelemy de la Roche, whose letters, 
written in the Conciergerie itself, have been preserved. 

"We want for nothing here," he says, "in the way of help and 
consolation of every description. They bring vis from the town the result 
of the precious covenant (the Communion) ; picture our joy. 

" We have been expecting our trial for three months and a half, and yet 
it does not come. God be praised ! . . . I have not yet had five minutes 
of weariness in my new abode. Moreover, I and all who share my 
sentiments are treated here with the most absolute respect, even by those 
who profess to be freethinkers. Some of them keep up this character 
even on the scaffold. Poor souls ! they must be greatly surprised when 
they are suddenly cut off and find themselves in the presence of God — they 
to whom nothing could be so unexpected as this solemn appearance on the 
scene. . . 

" . . If I go on my long journey soon I make you my sole legatee, and 
as one knows beforehand on what day one is to go up, I will do up a 
parcel and have it left in the town, and will put in it the watch (of 

198 



THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION 

Thanks to M. Emery this " service of souls/' as it has been 
called;, was not only organised in the Conciergerie, but in all the 
prisons of Paris. 

By means of his numerous acquaintances and his influence over 
the scattered clergy he contrived ways of enabling priests to 
penetrate everywhere, and did a truly apostolic work. When 
condemned prisoners were unable to receive the Sacrament 
before setting out for the scaffold they were informed, by some 
reliable means, that at a given point of the fatal journey a priest 
would be posted by the roadside to give them absolution from 
where he stood. The Abbes de Voisins, de Keravenan, de Sam- 
bucy, and other former students of Saint-Sulpice devoted them- 
selves habitually to this dangerous ministry. M. Emery had 
become the Chaplain-in-Chief of the prisons of the Republic. 

Now this saintly ecclesiastic, whose influence was so powerful, 
was not unaware that Marie Antoinette was imprisoned near 
him. He himself often described how, being lodged above the 
Queen and having found a way of corresponding with her through 
some of the other prisoners, he succeeded in getting a note to 
her one day, in which he said : " Prepare to receive absolution 
to-night at twelve o'clock, I shall be at your door and shall pro- 
nounce the sacramental words over you.' And at the appointed 
hour he was actually outside the Queen's door ; he heard the 
sighs of that unhappy princess, and conversed with her for some 
moments before he gave her absolution." ^ 

P. d'Hervil^e), with my little library, my crucifix, and my rosary. You 
will find in the parcel my last wishes, a little manuscript of which the 
original was found on a priest who was executed. I copied it for you. 
This writing will give you infinite satisfaction." 

These last wishes are worthy of being preserved. This is what B. de la 
Roche wrote on the eve of his condemnation : 

"I believe that the man who denounced us and was boarding with our 
ladies is in a state of destitution. I should like you to hand over a 
hundred livres to him. He has several children, and has probably not 
received that sum, which was what he hoped to get for his denunciation." 
— (See Un Episode de la Terreur, by the Comte Anatole de Segur, 1864.) 

^ Vie de M.^^mery, by the Abb6 Gosselin. 

The Abbe Emery is one of the most astonishing figures of this as- 
tonishing epoch. He was sixty years old when he was imprisoned, and 
during his long confinement " he was perpetually preparing himself to die 
by preparing others ; and yet he did not die. Three times he touched the 
foot of the guillotine, so to speak, and three times he came back alive. 
When he was free he often stopped to look at the fatal instrument, in 
order to accustom his eyes and his mind to it ; and it is said that when he 
was in prison he had a little model of it made, with the same object." — 
(De Sdgur, loc. cit. ) 

" At the Conciergerie he carried on the life of the Seminary," says 

199 



LAST DAYS OF MAUIE ANTOINETTE 

These things, howevei-j were not known outside the prison 
walls, and this explains why Marie Antoinette's unknown friends, 
feeling that the tragic climax was approaching, determined in 
spite of the apparently insurmountable obstacles to arrange an 
interview for her with a non-juring priest. 

Let us first take a cursory view of the facts : we will discuss 
their authenticity afterwards. 

A poor girl called Mademoiselle Fouche offered herself for the 
adventurous attempt : she obtained permission from the gaoler 
Richard to enter the Queen's cell : she explained to the prisoner 
the object of her mission, and a few days later she brought with 
her the Abbe Magnin, dressed as a layman. The Abbe returned 
to the Conciergerie several times. The affair of the carnation 
and the consequent arrest of Richard put an end to his visits for 
a time, but the new gaoler Bault was no stricter than his prede- 
cessor. The interviews between the Queen and the priest 
continued, and the latter one night brought with him the sacred 
objects necessary for the celebration of the Mass, in the course 
of which Marie Antoinette received the Communion. We know 
that she was watched by two gendarmes. The priest spoke to 
them for a moment, and the two men, whose names were Lamarche 
and Prud'homme, took part with their prisoner in the religious 
ceremony. A few days before the 1st of October the Abbe 
Magnin fell ill, and Mademoiselle Fouche went away to Orleans. 
She only returned to Paris on the evening of the very day of the 
execution. Such, in few words, is the story told by the Abbe 
Magnin and Mademoiselle Fouche : we shall read it presently in 
full, and it is therefoi-e unnecessary to give the details here. 

another historian : ' ' devoting to his prayers and meditations the usual 
hours of the Seminary . . . reading, writing, studying with more ardour 
and consistency even than he had ever shown before, and this in the midst 
of all the uproar ; at the hours of prayer or study stopping his ears with 
bread-crumb, at the recreation-hour unstopping them again, and then — 
gentle, gay, benevolent, cultivated — throwing himself into the con- 
versations that were sometimes so delightful in the prison. He soon 
acquired over everyone round him an authority to which he had never 
aspired. When the prisoners in the same room as himself chose a 
president it was he that was elected. 

According to his friends, who left some notes on his life, ' ' his qualities 
as a Superior made themselves felt even in his state of bondage." — 
Champagny. ]^tude sur M. J&mery. 

We may add that M. Emery, whom the gaolers themselves did not 
gainsay, obtained leave to pass the night with the condemned prisoners in 
the waiting-room, to prepare them for death. — {Un Episode de la Terreur, 
by the Comte Anatole de Segur. ) 

200 



THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION 

We will only attempt to answer the objections to which these 
narratives have given rise. 

In the first place it seems to us that the evidence to which we 
have referred above, touching the religious ceremonies performed 
in the prisons of the Terror^ is enough to save the Abbe Magnin's 
story from all appearance of incredibility. The Mass was said 
every day in the Conciergerie, the non-juring priests went in 
and out almost at will, and Fouquier-Tinville and his masters, the 
members of the Committees of Public Safety and General Security, 
were evidently not in the secret ; but Richard the gaoler, being 
either merciful or corruptible, tacitly authorised this infraction 
of the rules, for it is impossible that he could have been ignorant 
of it. Why should he have denied to the Queen a consolation 
that the other prisoners enjoyed ? This man Richard was 
certainly not a very stern gaoler, and Mademoiselle Fouche 
cannot have had very much difficulty in obtaining permission for 
the Abb^ Magnin to enter, since M. Emery was visited every 
day by the Abbe Montaigu, Philibert, and de Sambucy. As the 
introduction of a priest into the prison was not an unknown 
occurrence we may feel quite safe in accepting Mademoiselle 
Fouche's assertion on the subject. 

And is the celebration of the Mass in the cell any more 
incredible ? By no means. If it is true — and on this point, as 
we have seen, the witnesses are many — that M. Emery was 
allowed to console the condemned prisoners up to the very end, 
and even to pass the night with them, it must have been equally 
easy to authorise the Abbe Magnin to stay for an hour or two in 
the Queen's cell. The reading of an office in an isolated room 
from which everyone was excluded presented fewer risks than 
the performance of an almost public ceremony amid all the stir 
and movement of the prison. 

The two gendarmes on guard received absolution and knelt 
before the altar with the Queen : this seems to be the finishing- 
touch to the incredibility of the affair ! But may we not meet 
this objection by pointing out that it was to Richard's interest 
that night to choose warders whose republicanism was rather 
doubtful .'' Are they more incongruous in this connection than 
the Knight of Saint Louis who in this same Conciergerie prayed 
for two hours every day, or than the young soldier who read the 
Combat Spirituel and the Introduction a la vie devote ? ^ Was there 

1 Un Episode de la Terreur, by the Comte Anatole de Segur. 

201 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

not an immense majority of those who^ even while they welcomed 
the Revolution^ were still in their hearts faithful to the religion 
of their youth ? Whatever manner of men they were, it was 
necessary for the gendarmes guarding the Queen to choose, in 
circumstances such as these, between two alternatives : either to 
inform their superiors of what they saw, or to take part in the 
moving scene that was being enacted under their eyes. One can 
hardly picture them talking and laughing and smoking their pipes 
at such a solemn moment. 

There was one thing that inclined us at first to reject the 
episode of the Communion of the gendarmes, and with it the 
whole of the Abbe Magnin's narrative ; and this was that the 
two men were said to have died on the scaffold in the course of 
the Revolution. Now we could find no mention of Lamarche nor 
of Prud'homme in any of the very complete records of the Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal. These two names, then, it appeared, had 
been invented for the requirements of the story, which in our 
opinion was entirely upset and demolished by the results of this 
inquiry. 

Well, these men Lamarche and Prud'homme did really exist 
after all ! They were in the same company of gendarmerie, and 
were condemned to death, but not by the Revolutionary Tribunal. 
We discovered the documents connected with their trial among 
the papers of the Military Commission appointed after the 
Insurrection of Prairial.^ 

We have no fundamental reason, then, to disbelieve in the 
Queen's Communion in the cell of the Conciergerie ; but it 

^ National Archives, W^ 546. Be the twenty-three gendarmes accused 
of deserting their post at the Arsenal. 

Jean-Baptiste Prud'homme, twenty-nine years of age, native of 
Jonquereuil, department of the Aube, gendarme of the 1st division, company 
of La Bille. 

Charles Antoine Lamarche, twenty-five years of age, native of Mire- 
court, department of the Marne, gendarme of the 1st division, company of 
La Bille. 

Convicted : 1st, of having basely deserted, without any kind of 
resistance, the important post of the Arsenal, which had been entrusted 
to them, and of having left there the people's representative, Dentzel, 
exposed to the fury of the rebels. 

2ndly. Of having taken refuge in the Faubourg Antoine on the 4th of 
this month, and mixed with the rebels, among whom they were discovered 
and arrested when the Faubourg was stormed. 

3rdly. Of having by this conduct taken an active part in the rebellion 
and in the existing conspiracy, and of having exposed the lives of good 
citizens and endangered the public welfare. 

202 



THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION 

remains to us to inquire what degree of confidence we may 
place in the narratives of Mademoiselle Fouche and the Abbe 
Magnin. 

The Abbe Magnin^ having been before the Revolution the 
director of the little Seminary of Autunj became after the Terror 
the priest of the parish of Saint- Roch. In the days of the Con- 
sulate he informed the Duchesse d'Angouleme that the Queen, 
shortly before her death, had received the Sacrament. Marie 
Antoinette's daughter — who was so cautious in regard to every- 
thing concerning her parents' memory, so mistrustful of the 
innumerable people who boasted of having alleviated the suffer- 
ings of the royal captives in their imprisonment, so incredulous 
before the outburst of "retrospective devotion " that she refused 
the heart of " the child of the Temple," which Dr. Pelletan had 
removed at the time of the autopsy — Marie Antoinette's daughter 
must surely, in any matter that concerned her mother's last hours, 
have had all the evidence put before her. On the l6th October, 
1814, she received the Abbe Magnin, and it is plain that she did 
not regard him as an impostor, since two years later she pro- 
cured for him the cure of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, the royal 
parish. 

This excellent priest, however^ never attempted to boast of his 
noble conduct. He had said nothing of it when the Comte de 
Robiano's pamphlet, of which we shall speak presently, revealed 
to the world the fact of the Queen's Communion, which until 
then had been known only to a few individuals. 

There was but one person who attempted a refutation. Was 
this person, as one would naturally suppose, a man whom circum- 
stances had placed in a position to know everything that went on 
in the Conciergerie ? Not at all. The man who flung himself so 
eagerly into this discussion was Lafont d'Aussonne, late cure of 
Drancy in the diocese of Versailles, who described himself as an 
ex-priest, now a 7nanufacturer of Prussian blue. He was the author 
of a book on Marie Antoinette, in which among other enormities 
he declared, without giving any evidence or taking the trouble 
to support his assertion in a note, that the Queen died from a fit 
of apoplexy on her way from the Law Courts to the Place de la 
Revolution, and that the executioner had only beheaded a 
corpse I 

Such is the historian who, with unaccountable animosity, 
attacked the Abbe Magnin's revelations. He published a 

203 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

virulent pamphlet called : The fictitious Communion of the Queen, 
supported hy means of a fiction, in which the cure of Saint- 
Germain-rAuxerrois and Mademoiselle Fouche were violently 
accused of imposture.^ 

When the Abbe Magnin was informed by one of his friends ^ 
of the publication of this brochure he determined not to answer 
it. It required nothing less than the intervention of a high 
dignitary of the diocese of Paris to persuade him to make a 
solemn declaration of the truth of his assertions. The Abbe 
Desjardins^ cure of Foreign Missions and afterwards vicar-general 
of PariSj put it before him as a positive duty to prove the 
authenticity of the fact contested by Lafont d'Aussonne ; and 
" on the following day^ which was a Sunday, M. Magnin entered 
the pulpit between vespers and compline, and in the presence of 
a numerous congregation protested with charitable moderation 
against so revolting an imputation. He described the incident 
and the chief circumstances attending it. Then turning to the 
altar he raised his hands and declared before God that all he 
had just said was absolute truth." ^ 

Lafont d'Aussonne did not consider himself beaten. In the 
following year (1825), he published a Memorial to the King on the 
importance of the spurious matter dealing with the Conciergerie. 
The Abbe Magnin did not answer him, but contented himself 
with addressing to the King a memorial in manuscript, of which 
we shall presently read the entire text. In it he produced the 
conclusive evidence of various witnesses, among them being the 

1 The first and most plausible of Lafont d'Aiissonne's objections is 
derived from the Queen's Will itself : Not knowing whether there are any 
priests of this religion [Catholic) still alive, and moreover the place in lohich 
I am would he too dangerous for them. It would seem then that Marie 
Antoinette herself declared that she had not seen a priest in the Con- 
ciergerie, and that the Abbe Magnin's story is therefore nothing but an 
imposture. 

But we may meet this by saying that these words of the prisoner are 
completely in accord with the assertions of MIM. Fouche, who, being 
obliged to go away to Orleans during the first days of October, had 
suddenly given up her visits to the Conciergerie. The Queen, seeing no 
more of her consolers, maj'^ have thought they had been arrested and 
imprisoned, and did not wish to compi'omise those who had shown her so 
much devotion. And moreover we know that, when the curi Gii'ard came 
on the morning of the 16th October to offer his services to the prisoner, she, 
knowing he had taken the oath, answered that she had no need of his 
assistance. Divine mercy has provided for me, she said. 

2 M. Troche. 

^ La Communion de la Heine Marie Antoinette a la Conciergerie. — (See 
the journal Le Monde for March 3Ist, 1863.) 

204 



THE QUEEN'S COMMUNION 

widow Bault, who certified that she knew he had come to the 
prison during the Queen's confinement in the Conciergerie^ to 
give the prisoner the consolations of religion.^ 

1 (See p. 220.) 

The paper L Ami de la Religion for December 19, 1843, contains an in- 
teresting study of the Abb6 Magnin. We quote from it the following 
account of his last years. 

"The Abb6 Magnin zealously managed his parish until 1831. The 
Parisian clergy were at that time surrounded by enemies who, though few 
in number, made up for this by their violence, and made no secret of their 
hostile schemes. Ever since the death of the Due de Berry it had been the 
constant custom to celebrate a service in his memory on the 14th February. 
Some royalists, who thought this pious custom should not be abolished on 
account of the change of Government . . . went in search of M. Magnin. 
The matter was urgent, for it was then Thursday, and it was wished that 
the service should be performed on Monday the 15th February since the 14th 
was a Sunday. It did not occur to the vicar of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois 
to inform the ecclesiastical authorities, and he read the service on the 
appointed day. Everything went off quietly, and the clergy had already 
returned to the vestry when a young man, prompted by some unknown 
motive, thought of fastening a portrait of the Due de Bordeaux to the 
catafalque. As soon as M. Magnin had been informed of this imprudent 
action he hurried to remove the porti'ait, but it was too late. A crowd, 
composed of members of the lowest mob, but prompted by more important 
persons, rushed into the church, destroyed everything in it — not even 
sparing the ancient tombs — and in a few moments turned this holy fane 
into a scene of horror. They devastated the vestry in the same way, and 
then proceeded to the presbytery, the curb's dwelling. There they spared 
nothing : furniture, books, linen, vestments, everything was stolen or 
destroyed. They looked for M. Magnin himself, intending to seize him 
and throw him into the river ; but he had cautiously hidden himself, and 
for that day was able to escape the fury of the rioters. 

" The authorities made M. Magnin responsible for this event, by which 
he had been so cruelly victimised. They issued a writ against him, and 
he was seized and put in prison. He was first examined before a young 
judge, of whose methods he could not speak too highly ; but afterwards 
he appeared before an older one who treated him very dififerently and 
seemed absolutely determined to prove his guilt. 

" The truth triumphed at last, and after nineteen days of imprisonment 
M. Magnin recovered his liberty ; but he had not only lost> everything he 
possessed but was also deprived of the consolation of returning to his 
church, which, after having been laid waste, was closed and threatened 
with destruction. He and his clergy were obliged to take refuge in the 
church of St. Eustache, which then served two parishes. 

" When in 18.32 there was such a violent outbreak of cholera it was 
thought right to ask the authorities to allow the church of Saint-Germain- 
l'Auxerrois to be opened. They consented, and M. le cure, who had been 
given the keys of his church, was already occupied in having the most 
urgent repairs seen to, when the enemies of religion compassed the 
revocation of the authorities' permission, and had the venerable pastor 
ignominiously removed from the holy edifice. So the doors of Saint- 
Germain-l'Auxerrois were once more closed, and the iron plates witli which 
they were fastened sliowed plainly that all hope of seeing them re-opened 
must be given up. This state of things lasted until 1837. 

" M. Magnin then resolved to resign. Hardly had he come to this 
determination when the church was restored to the uses of religion 

205 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

M. Maxime de la Rocheterie {Revue des Questions Mstoriques, 
1870), in the course of a very complete study of the subject we 
are considering, proved that M. le Comte de Robiano's story 
merited as much confidence as the Abbe Magnin's official decla- 
ration. The Comte Francois de Robiano, a scion of an ancient 
and noble Italian family who had settled in Belgium at the time 
of the Spanish rule, had during his many visits to Paris become in- 
timate with the vicar of Saint- Germain-l'Auxerrois, who had been 
brought to his notice as the last consoler of Louis XVI. 's widow. 

He listened eagerly to the details of that marvellous incident. 
He then determined to hear Mademoiselle Fouche's story also, 
and undertook to take down the depositions of the two eye- 
witnesses. The Comte de Robiano carried his zeal for historical 
accuracy to the utmost point of scrupulousness. Every day at 
the end of his interview with Mademoiselle Fouche or the Abbe 
Magnin he wrote down what he had heard, and on the morrow 
he read aloud to them the notes he had written, in order to make 
sure that they were quite accurate, and were in every respect 
consistent with the recollections of the witnesses. {Information 
given in 1870 to M. Maxime de la Rocheterie, hy M. le Comte L. de 
Robiano, member of the Belgian Senate and son of Count Frangois.) 

M. de Robiano's narrative, having been compiled in such con- 
ditions as these, may be regarded as absolutely reliable ; and 
this being the case, we have thought it right to publish it with 
the Abbe Magnin's declaration. 

And now the reader must judge for himself. In spite of this 
long preamble the following pages will doubtless seem to him 
full of improbabilities, but with the exception of a few insigni- 
ficant details we, for our part, believe them to be a truthful record. 
The fact of Marie Antoinette's Communion in the Conciergerie 
must be classed among those astonishing circumstances which 
such as study it closely will find in the history of that 
terrible and strange Revolution, wherein so much passion, and 
hatred, and devotion were mingled. 

without the smallest disturbance. M. de Qu61en blessed it on the 
13th May, 1837, and on the following day, which was Whitsun Day, the 
Abb^ Quentin, vicar-general, celebrated High Mass within its walls. 

"M. Magnin, who was tall and had a good constitution, died at the age 
of eighty-three, without suffering any of the infirmities of age. He 
succumbed on the 12th January, 1843, leaving everything he possessed to the 
Seminary of Foreign Missions, where he had lived for nearly six months 
in 1791. His funeral service was performed at Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois 
on the 15th January, in the presence of a great number of his former 
parishioners." 

206 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF 
MADEMOISELLE FOUCHE 

RECORDED IN 1824 
By M. le Comte de Robiano 

, . . During that terrible time so justly known as the 
Terror, Mademoiselle Fouche and the Abbe Magnin, who 
then called himself M. Charles, had the courage — relying on 
the goodness of Providence — to devote themselves to the 
prisoners, for whom they wished to secure, not only the 
kindly human comfort and help that seemed banished from 
the face of the earth, but also the support of religion with 
its invaluable examples of courage and resignation. They 
were known to several of the gaolers — whose complaisance 
was seldom gratuitous — and were regarded by them merely 
as good creatures of no importance, who followed the dictates 
of their kind hearts, and relieved all who were unfortunate, 
without distinction. This being the state of things Made- 
moiselle Fouche conceived the bold project of making her 
way into the Queen's presence. 

One day then, as Mademoiselle Fouche was coming away 
from visiting some of the other prisoners, she asked the 
gaoler Richard if she might not be allowed to see the Queen. 
For a long time he refused to listen to her request. 
" Impossible ! Absolutely impossible ! " he repeated. 
Mademoiselle Fouche thought she detected something in the 
tone of his voice that showed that his decision was not final, 
that by some means this no might perhaps become yes ; and 
presenting the gaoler with some pieces of gold with which 

307 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

she had supplied herself for the purpose she renewed her 
request. " Pay attention to what I say," said Richard. 
" There are four gendarmes entrusted with the guarding of 
the prisoner ; two of them are devils, but the other two are 
good lads. They relieve each other at midnight. Come at 
half-past twelve, and — we shall see." Mademoiselle Fouche, 
overwhelmed with delight, went to the worthy M. Magnin. 
" I am going to be allowed to see the Queen ! " she 
said. 

In the middle of the night, amid all the dangers that 
arose from the restless, active, relentless vigilance of that 
time, which sent men to their death on the merest suspicion, 
these two Christian friends repaired to a place that was 
absolutely the most dangerous in all Paris, a place upon 
which savage eyes must surely have been always fixed, had it 
not been that God sent them to sleep. Richard kept his 
word. Mademoiselle Fouche was shown, alone, into the 
Queen's cell. The Queen was not in bed, A wretched little 
low bed, an old arm-chair stuffed with straw, a little table, 
— such was her furniture in this damp hole, which was un- 
papered, and was divided into two parts by a kind of curtain 
and a screen as well. The second division was occupied by 
the two gendarmes who made the Queen's martyrdom com- 
plete, in this melancholy abode, by watching her perpetually. 

Mademoiselle Fouche was struck by the majestic appear- 
ance of her Sovereign, but the sight of the blanched hair, 
and hollow cheeks, and faded colouring filled her with emotion. 
The Queen looked silently at this person who came into her 
prison at such an hour. Then Mademoiselle Fouche, whose 
lips knew no guile, told her story. In simple words that 
would have been impossible to an impostor she informed the 
Queen of the touching purpose that brought a Frenchwoman 
and a Christian into her presence. But the Queen had been 
for so long surrounded by snares that she could not yield her 
confidence so soon. Mademoiselle Fouche's heart was throb- 
bing with emotion and happiness and embarrassment ; but 
she plucked up courage enough to beg the Queen to take 
some food she had brought her, offering, alas ! to taste it first. 
She received no answer. Good Mademoiselle Fouche under- 

^8 



RECOLLECTIONS OF MLLE. FOUCHE 

stood the royal prisoner's caution in the most wonderful way/ 
and knew why she could win nothing from her but a look of 
dignity — that last sublime defence of the daughter of 
Emperors ! She ended this first visit by asking Her Majesty 
if she would allow her to return. " As you will," said the 
Queen. Ah, will I not ! thought Mademoiselle Fouche no 
doubt, and, more than ever resolved to carry out her pious 
and devoted scheme, she went away quite satisfied. 

Meanwhile the Queen was thinking over this visit, for 
Mademoiselle Fouche's conduct had touched her, and she 
became convinced of the sincerity of this beautiful soul. 
Her excellent heart rejected every thought of suspicion, and 
when the second interview took place she no longer refused 
her confidence. 

This was Mademoiselle Fouche's scheme. Like a true 
Christian, inspired by the purest and most devoted zeal, she 
offered to bring a priest to see the Queen. The pious 
princess accepted the offer eagerly. " But," she said, " do 
you know one who is a non -juror ? " Being reassured on that 
point, to which she attached the greatest importance, she 

1 The Le Monde newspaper published on the 23r(i July, 1864, the 
following letter from the Rev. Father Fouch6, which with regard to one 
or two points supplements the story of the Comte de Robiano. 

" I knew M. Charles Magnin very intimately. During the Revolution 
of '89 he took refuge with the Demoiselles Fouch^s, my father's sisters ; 
and from that time forward he never left them. Indeed, I had been 
taught, when staying with my aunts, to call him 'Uncle.' This was a 
stratagem intended to avert suspicion. I have several times heard 
Mile. Fouch^, the elder of the two sisters, relate how she had managed 
to get into the Conciergerie. She was received by the Queen with an icy 
coldness that is easily accounted for. The things she had brought with 
her (stockings, linen, food) to give to the Queen, had no more favourable 
effect. She even went so far as to eat a piece of bread-and-jam in order to 
do away with any idea of her intentions being sinister. As all her efforts 
failed she felt she must adopt some more persuasive means. 'Madame,' 
she said to the Queen, 'the state of public opinion is such that it is 
impossible for you any longer to entertain the least hope. Religion alone 
can give you its final consolation, and it is in order to procure this for you 
that I have dared to come to you. If you accept my suggestion I am 
confident of being able to put you in touch with a non-juring catholic 
priest. If your Majesty will deign to answer me I will neglect nothing in 
my efforts to serve you. " 

The effect of these words was immediate. The Queen threw herself 
into my aunt's arms, embraced her tenderly, and expressing her gratitude 
declared that her one desire was to realise these promises. 

S. FoucHii;, S, J. 

2C9 p 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

agreed that on the occasion of the third visit M. Magnin 
should be brought in ; and Mademoiselle Fouche, who 
thought of everything, begged her Majesty, if the ecclesiastic 
did not suit her, merely to make a sign, upon which he would 
go away. 

If Mademoiselle Fouche had found it difficult to approach 
the Queen the difficulties in the case of M. Magnin were far 
greater. The most persistent entreaties and arguments, 
combined with Richard's long acquaintance with these two, 
who had always been careful not to compromise him, again 
overcame his objections. M. Magnin, who during the other 
visits had waited outside, was allowed to follow Mademoiselle 
Fouche. He inspired the Queen with so much confidence 
that she conversed with him for an hour and a half. Tears 
of joy and gratitude lay upon her cheeks, which for so long 
had only glistened with tears of utmost bitterness. She 
embraced Mademoiselle Fouche rapturously, and begged that 
M. Magnin might accompany her whenever she was able to 
enter the prison herself : which he did. Richard, somewhat 
reassured by the success of the experiment, promised them 
that they should often take advantage of the days when the 
well-disposed gendarmes were on guard. 

Her Majesty confessed herself several times ; and about 
fifteen days after the admission of M. Magnin, who was in 
the habit of carrying consecrated wafers to the prisoners in a 
box hung round his neck, she had the happiness of receiving 
the Holy Communion in the Conciergerie, with a sense of 
comfort and support that one may imagine but that cannot 
possibly be put into words. 

In the meantime Mademoiselle Fouche had obtained the 
Queen's permission to substitute some fine chemises and 
various other little things for the extremely coarse linen that 
had been unblushingly provided for her. Being obliged to 
take several persons into her confidence with regard to her 
good fortune in visiting the Queen and being of some use to 
her, she had spoken of it to Madame de Quelen among 
others, the mother of Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris. 
This virtuous lady and devoted royalist, hearing that the 
Queen was then wearing a shabby black gown, torn, and 

210 



RECOLLECTIONS OF MLLE. FOUCHJfi 

coarsely mended with white cotton, eagerly offered her best 
dresses to Mademoiselle Fouche. But a sudden thought put 
an end to their pleasure. Every day the commissioners came 
several times to inspect the prison, and their suspicions would 
certainly be roused by the sight of a new dress. It was 
therefore necessary for the ladies to confine their attention to 
under-garments. The fear lest even a more suitable pair of 
shoes should betray the important secret prevented them 
from providing anything of that kind. 

The dampness and coldness of the prison suggested to 
Mademoiselle Fouche the idea of procuring some warmer 
stockings for the Queen. The sisters of La Charite Saint- 
Roch, of whom three are still alive, eagerly supplied these. 
Alas ! fragments of these stockings — unmistakable on 
account of the thick lining formed by long ends of filoselle 
silk — were found on the body of the unfortunate Marie 
Antoinette. 

Mademoiselle Fouche, having heard that the Queen liked 
rye-bread, made an arrangement with a baker in the neigh- 
bourhood of the Conciergerie, and took care that every 
second day Her Majesty should be supplied with this little 
sign of consideration and attention. 

The royal prisoner was much touched by these marks of 
devotion, and showed her gratitude for them. She showed, 
too, the most entire confidence, and expressed it in moving 
terms. She had neither pen, ink, nor paper ; but an admir- 
able sense of delicacy and generosity always forbade her to 
accept Mademoiselle Fouche's repeated offers to provide her 
with writing materials, " If you were surprised with a single 
word of mine in your possession," she said, " your death 
would be a certainty." 

One night the Queen produced a very simple little ebony 
box that had been left in her possession ; how, I do not 
know, for an oversight of this kind was very inconsistent 
with the minute searches and spoliation to which the royal 
family had been subjected. The little box contained a 
porcelain cup mounted in silver. The Queen confided it to 
Mademoiselle Fouche's care, saying : " If you possibly can, 
give this last souvenir to Madame Royale ; but if these 

211 p 3 



I.AST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

unhappy times should prevent you from putting my daughter 
in possession of it, I give the cup to you. Keep it in memory 
of me." It was with the greatest respect that Mademoiselle 
Fouche received this farewell gift, the only possession of the 
Queen of France ! Afterwards, she several times consulted 
Madame la Princesse de Chimay, Madame la Princesse de 
Tarente, and Madame la Comtesse de Golowkin as to the 
best means of conveying her precious charge to her Royal 
Highness Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme. At last, in 
1804, the Duchesse de Tarente, who was returning to Russia, 
undertook the care of it, and the Duchesse d'Angouleme, 
having received it at Mittau, was good enough to acknow- 
ledge the receipt of it in an autograph letter which 
Mademoiselle Fouche has carefully preserved. 

About this time a certain Michonis, a commissioner, took 
into the prison a stranger who tried to put into the Queen's 
hands a carnation containing a little piece of paper. The 
paper fell to the ground, and the commissioners took posses- 
sion of it instantly, and afterwards this fruitless attempt was 
punished with vindictive cruelty. Mademoiselle Fouche went 
to the Conciergerie that day and found everything changed. 
Without daring to ask for an explanation she went to the 
prison of La Force, the gaoler of which was a certain M. 
Bault, an honest man whose heart was not insensible to pity. 
A sister of the Saint-Louis Hospital, who is still living, 
secured an interview with Madame Bault for Mademoiselle 
Fouche, who then heard of the Michonis affair, of Richard''s 
discharge, and of his being replaced at the Conciergerie by 
M. Bault. 

This incident would have alarmed anyone else, but on 
account of the last circumstance it only quickened Mademoiselle 
Fouche's ardour. She knew M. Bault, and respected him. 
She sought him out, told him in confidence what Richard 
had allowed her to do, and begged him to go and ask the 
Queen to confirm her statements. This message having had 
the result that Mademoiselle Fouche expected, her next care 
was to speak to M. Bault of the dampness in the cell, which 
was so great that on the occasion of her first visit she had 
felt her cuffs and coif quite wet. The gaoler hunted out a 

212 



RECOLLECTIONS OF MLLE. FOUCHE 

piece of old carpet in the attics of La Force, and nailed it 
against the wall in her Majesty's room. Any less shabby or 
less common piece of stuff would not have been tolerated. 
As it was the commissioners noticed it, and spoke severely 
about it to M. Bault, who said to them : " Citizens, I am 
answerable with my head for the prisoner. It would be 
possible, by speaking with a loud voice, to make her hear 
anything that was said, and to receive answers from her. 
This thick carpet will prevent that."" Baulfs precaution was 
approved of, and the carpet remained where it was. 

Taking advantage of Bault's good-will, M. Magnin and 
Mademoiselle Fouche determined to give the Queen the 
unexpected happiness of taking part in the celebration of 
Holy Mass in her melancholy cell. When Mademoiselle 
Fouche made this further suggestion to M. Bault he was 
much taken aback by the request. She entreated, she 
insisted, and she had her way. " Do not be anxious, my dear 
M. Bault,'"' she said to him ; " you need only be at the 
trouble of procuring two little candlesticks for me : we will 
see to all the rest.'"' And they hastily set to work to obtain 
a chasuble of simple taffetas, some linen to cover the table 
that was to serve as an altar, a silver chalice that took to 
pieces, the consecrated stone, a little missal, the flagons, and 
two tapers. Such were the preparations, and such the light 
burdens shared by the two friends. 

The Queen had been apprised of their coming, and was 
joyfully awaiting the boon that she desired more than any- 
thing in the world. After the celebration of the Mass she 
wished, in her humility, that her warders and her guardian 
angel might be treated as her equals in receiving the Holy 
Eucharist, but the Abbe Magnin desired the Queen of France 
to receive it first. She obeyed ; and then the consecrated 
wafer was presented to Mademoiselle Fouche and the two 
soldiers. The Queen, melting into tears at the feet of her 
God, confided the fate of her children to His care, and 
besought Him for strength to bear her present misery, and 
for resignation in the terrible future that awaited her on 
earth. 

About this time, near the end, M. Magnin fell seriously 

213 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

ill and was confined to his bed. Her Majesty was much 
distressed. Mademoiselle Fouche suggested that she should 
see another priest, and twice succeeded in taking into the 
Conciergerie M. Cholet,^ a Vendeen priest, who gave the 
Queen the last aids of religion two days before she was tried 
by the Revolutionary Tribunal. 

And yet the storm that never ceased to threaten that 
royal head did not then seem to be on the point of breaking. 
Mademoiselle Fouche thought she might safely go away to 
Orleans, whither she was summoned by urgent business that 
admitted of no delay. And then, suddenly, during her short 
absence, the Queen was dragged before the Tribunal. It 
was only in the course of her own trial that she learnt of 
the horrible terror that was reigning in France, and of the 
slaughter by which, day by day, all the royalism and 
Christianity in the country was being stamped out. Seeing 
that her friends of the prison did not return, she must have 
thought they had perished, and it is no doubt this sad 
belief of hers that explains these words in her letter : Not 
Itnowing whether there are any priests of this religion still 
alive. 

Mademoiselle Fouche returned to Paris hoping to see the 
Queen again at once. On reaching Etampes she was informed 
by some people who had just left Paris that on that very 
morning Marie Antoinette had died upon the scaffold. 

1 In L'Histoire de Marie Antoinette, by M. de Vyre, the following story 
is told. " A disguised priest went into the Queen's cell. He was the 
vicar of Saint-M— , who in 1791, when the royal family was imprisoned in 
the Tuileries after Varennes, had been consulted with regard to a new 
project for escape. 

" The vicar of Saint-M — , then, went into the cell trembling like a child, 
and walked up and down in the space reserved for municipal officers, 
while the gendarmes were playing cards. The Queen did not recognise 
him ; but he went up to her and in one word informed her of the object of 
his visit. He then gave her absolution, and put into her hands a round 
flat silver box containing a wafer. This pyx is now in the possession of 
Madame Alexandre Legentil, n&e Marcotte. 

' ' The vicar of Saint-M — spoke of this visit to two persons only, his friend 
Royer CoUard and his own niece, through whom M. de Vyre heard of it." 

Might not this cv,r6 of Saint-M— (?) be the Abbe Cholet ? 



%u 



THE DECLARATION OF THE 
ABBE MAGNIN 

(1825) 

Statement drawn up by M. Magnin, Cure of the Parish 
OF Saint-Germain-l''Auxerrois, concerning Queen Marie 
Antoinette''s Communion in the Conciergerie.^ 

Having been chosen by the Lord, in spite of my unworthi- 
ness, to give the consolations of religion to the unfortunate 
Marie Antoinette of Austria, Queen of France, while confined 

^ This Declaration, which the Abbe Magnin wrote and signed with his 
own hand, was presented in 1825 to Charles X., Madame la Dauphine, 
Monseigneur the Archbishop of Paris, and Monseigneur d'Hermopolis, and 
was published on the '23rd July, 1864, in the journal called Le Monde. 
The original manuscript is in the possession of Mile. Fouche's nephew. A 
pamphlet that is now very rare, La Coniiniumon de la reine Marie Antoin- 
ette d la Conciergerie, by N. M. Troche, supplies the following details. 
The Duchesse d'Angouleme had known of the pious deed in the Conciergerie 
as early as the year 1804, during her exile at Mittau in Courland, whence 
she sent grateful messages to Mile. Fouche. Later on, after the restora- 
tion of the august royal family, she sought an opportunity of showing her 
gratitude to M. Magnin. This opportunity soon presented itself. Various 
reasons, known to the ecclesiastical authorities, necessitated the removal 
of the venerable M. Valayer, at that time cur4 of Saint-Germain-d'Auxer- 
rois. He was transferred to Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs, and M. Magnin 
succeeded him on the 5th Nov., 1816, thus becoming the vicar of the parish 
of the Tuileries. 

From 1816 to 1831 M. Magnin's ministry was entirely that of a father 
revered by his spiritual children. The revolution of July passed over his 
head without touching him. But on the 13th Feb., 1831, on the ostensible 
pretext of the service he performed for the repose of Monseigneur le due 
de Berry's soul, his church was horribly profaned and pillaged, after 
which it remained closed until the 13th May, 1837. During these six 
years his position, with regard to his ecclesiastical status, was as deplor- 
able and as sad as that of Monseigneur de Quelen ; but he bore it with 
courage and energy, and for some time resisted all the efforts of the civil 
authorities to make him resign. At last, however, realising that it was 

215 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

in the prison of the Conciergerie, I thought it my duty to 
preserve a strict silence with regard to an event that I have 
always attributed to the intervention of God. His merciful 
designs upon a soul that was dear to Him broke down all the 
difficulties and innumerable obstacles that I had to overcome. 
It was my duty to give Him all the glory and remain in the 
shade myself. 

Uncontrollable circumstances, and the advice of several 
people in the first ranks of society, whose intelligence equals 
the integrity of their hearts, now oblige me to leave the 
shade, to break silence and publish the truth. 

I am therefore going to tell this interesting story, with 
the|simplicity that it demands. I shall recount to the whole 
French nation how in those days of cruel memory, when our 
august sovereign, who had been dragged from one of the 
grandest thrones of the world, was sighing in a prison cell, 
the Lord sent one of His ministers to her, to fill her soul with 

only at this price that his church would be re-opened in accordance with 
his parishioners' wishes, he begged Monseigneur the Archbishop to allow 
him to resign, and his resignation was sent to King Louis-Philippe. 

I must here draw attention to the fact that, though he was exposed to 
many calumnies during this six years' ordeal, M. Magnin's honesty with 
regard to his pious relations with the Queen in the Conciergerie was not 
called in question by any newspaper or publication whatever. It was 
well known, moreover, that the facts of the case were familiar to the 
Bourbon family. This is proved beyond a doubt by the following circum- 
stance. In the Salon of 1819 the painter Menjaud exhibited a picture 
representing Her Majesty Queen Marie Antoinette receiving the Communion 
from the hands of the Abbe Magnin, whose features are recognisable. 
Mile. Fouch6 and the two gendarmes are also present. This interesting 
composition aroused much admiration and emotion among the general 
public, while to the royal family it was a source of consolation. King 
Louis XVIII. examined it with the liveliest interest, and a few days after 
his visit to the Salon His Majesty was good enough to address a few 
complimentary words to the vicar of Saint-Germain-1 Auxerrois. 

Many people who had the pleasure of seeing this touching picture, and 
some who knew it only through the accounts in the newspapers, expressed 
a wish that this memorial might be reproduced as an engraving, since the 
incident it represented was not only of a most consoling nature, but also 
did honour to religion. With a view to fulfilling this wish, MM. Bazin 
and Civeton, two artists well known for their good work and their 
excellent principles, engraved with the greatest care a lithograph of 
M. Menjaud's picture, in order that the memory of the remarkable event 
it represented might be preserved. Madame la duchesse d'Angouleme 
having consented to accept the dedication of the lithograph, they had the 
honour of presenting it to her, and Her Royal Highness was kind enough 
to say that she was pleased at their reproducing this interesting subject, 
and that their work seemed to her to be skilfully done. 

216 




r 



THE ABB^ MAGjSIN, THE LAST CONFESSOR OF TEIE QUEEN. 

From an unpublished picture preserved in the sacristy of the Church of 
Saint-Germain-rAuxerrois. 



DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN 

all the consolation that religion offers to the unhappy. I 
shall dissipate the doubts and suspicions that have arisen, 
and I shall leave no uncertainty in the minds of the public as 
to the truth of this memorable circumstance, which history 
will not fail to transmit from age to age to our most remote 
descendants, with all that concerns the misfortunes of the 
royal family. I shall give details that will be some con- 
solation to the latter, and especially to the Princess whose 
virtues are so admirable and whose heroic courage has sup- 
ported her through such terrible trials. 

I shall give her the. certain knowledge that her royal 
mother, the victim of man''s injustice and cruelty, was com- 
forted, strengthened, and prepared for the final ordeal by those 
pious and moving ceremonies that made her forget the 
ingratitude of her subjects. I shall speak for the honour of 
religion and its ministers, and shall defend them from the 
impious violence of men without principle or faith, consistent 
foes of the throne and the altar, who have made it their 
business to ridicule, deny, and reject everything that could 
tend to the glory of God. But before beginning this story I 
must introduce Mademoiselle Fouche, my excellent partner in 
this work of Divine Providence. 

Mademoiselle Fouche, a member of a respectable family 
from Orleans, and herself deserving of much esteem on 
account of her piety, had, at the beginning of the schism 
that was so disastrous to the Church of France, become 
intimate with various people who were distinguished alikd by 
their birth and their virtues. Having dedicated herself to 
works of charity she visited the victims of the Revolution in 
prison, found asylums for persecuted royalists, and facilitated 
the flight of those who were trying to escape the fury of their 
enemies. 

Some very distinguished people owed their peace and safety 
to the services she had rendered them, and were eager in their 
expressions of gratitude. Being suspected of receiving priests 
at her house, as well as emigres who had returned to France, 
she was arrested, but the temporary loss of her freedom did 
not in the least diminish her zeal. When visiting the prisoners 
in the Conciergerie she made the acquaintance of the Sieur 

217 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Richard, who was the gaoler there. She had the courage — 
to this I bear witness — to persuade the gaoler to admit her 
to the Queen's cell. Her reiterated entreaties, combined with 
tact and skill, had all the success that she could wish. To her 
great happiness she was taken to the Queen's room, and was 
able to offer her a few comforts to alleviate her painful and 
distressing privations. Inspired by Heaven, and assured of 
the illustrious prisoner's consent, she urgently begged that 
she might be allowed to take me with her into Her Majesty's 
cell, and secured permission to do so. 

I declare, then, that with the assistance of the Most High, 
I had the happiness of receiving the confession of the Queen 
of France on two occasions, and of giving her the Holy 
Communion, while Richard was still the gaoler of the 
Conciergerie. 

I declare further that the Sieur Bault, who succeeded 
Richard at the Conciergerie, and knew Mademoiselle Fouche 
while he was gaoler of La Force, also yielded to her entreaties ; 
she was again admitted to the cell. Once more the presence 
of this devoted creature brought a little brightness into the 
Queen's sad surroundings ; and I too, owing to Mademoiselle 
Fouche's efforts and prayers, won from the new warder the 
happiness of visiting Her Majesty. 

Remembering what had taken place when Louis XVI, was 
in the same circumstances in the Temple, and knowing the 
Queen's feelings on the subject, I suggested to her that I 
should celebrate Holy Mass in the dark hole in which she was 
imprisoned, and should give her the Holy Communion. I 
assured Her Majesty that we could easily bring with us all 
the things necessary for these solemn ceremonies. For during 
these dreadful times we had in our possession three little 
chalices that took to pieces, some small 18mo missals, and 
some portable altar-stones, rather longer than the foot of a 
little chalice. All these things fitted into a work-bag, and 
we could easily hide them in our pockets. 

The Queen gratefully accepted, and thanked us for the 
suggestion. Among the gendarmes who were employed to 
guard this particular cell we had noticed two whose respect 
for their sovereign and open manifestation of their religious 

218 



DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN 

feelings had inspired us with complete confidence. As they 
were well known to the gaoler, I did not hesitate to inform 
them of the good fortune that the Queen was about to enjoy, 
and these men, who were good Christians as well as loyal 
French subjects, expressed their desire to have a share in this 
glorious privilege. 

The day of the sacred ceremony having been agreed upon, 
the gaoler came to meet us during the night at a particular 
spot, and took us into the prison. I heard the Queen's con- 
fession. Mademoiselle Fouche was prepared to receive her 
Saviour, and the two gendarmes assured me that they also 
were ready, and earnestly desired to communicate in these 
fortunate and unexpected circumstances. 

I celebrated Holy Mass, and gave the Communion to the 
Queen, who, as she fortified herself with the eucharistic bread, 
received from God the courage to bear uncomplainingly all 
the torture that awaited her. Mademoiselle Fouche and the 
two gendarmes were at the same time admitted to the divine 
banquet. 

Having undertaken to tell my story in few words, I cannot 
possibly dwell upon the emotion to which so touching a scene 
must give rise. It took place early in October, 1793, and as 
I fell ill shortly afterwards this was the last time I had the 
honour of seeing Her Majesty. Mademoiselle Fouche was 
more fortunate ; and she introduced in my place M. Cholet, a 
priest from La Vende'e. This ecclesiastic gave the Communion 
to the Queen during the night of the 12th of the same month, 
and immediately afterwards left France to take refuge in 
England. There, according to information obtained by 
Madame la princesse de Chimay, he has since died. 

Such is the authentic and solemn declaration that I hereby 
make. Mademoiselle Fouche, whom Providence has mercifully 
preserved, has supported my testimony with her own irre- 
futable evidence. Calumny has made it a matter of duty to 
give publicity to this incident, a duty that I felt obliged to 
fulfil. The two gaolers are dead ; the brave gendarmes, 
victims of their own imprudence, died under the executioner's 
knife ; and Mademoiselle Fouche and myself are the only two 
remaining eye-witnesses. 1 will add one or two facts that will 

219 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

throw light on this incident — which some have dared to treat 
as a fable — and will confirm my assertion that Queen Marie 
Antoinette did actually receive the Communion in the 
Conciergerie. 

Although our actions demanded the greatest secrecy, 
various reasons determined us to confide in several people 
upon whose discretion we could absolutely rely. More than 
thirty years have passed since then, but there is still a more 
than sufficient number of people alive to bear witness to the 
truth of what I have just declared. 

There is, for instance, Sister Julie, the Superior of the 
Sisters of Charity of Saint-Roch ; and Sister Jeanne, of the 
same community. Charitable ladies took to these nuns the 
articles they had collected to alleviate the privations of 
the royal captive. It was from them that Mademoiselle 
Fouche received a pair of stockings of grey filoselle, thickly 
lined, and a pair of elastic garters. It was, under Providence, ' 
by means of one of these stockings, and of the preservation 
of the garters, that the precious remains of Marie Antoinette 
were identified in the cemetery of the Madeleine ! 

Other witnesses to whom I can appeal are Mademoiselle 
Trouve, Rue de Sevres, opposite to the Abbaye-aux-Bois, who 
was well known to the Princesse de Chimay ; and M. Blandin, 
vicar-general at Orleans and cure of Saint-Paterne, who was 
in hiding in this town at that time. In a letter that he wrote 
to me in the course of last December, he reminded me that 
he had expressed a desire to share both our happiness and our 
risks ; and since then he has repeated this to my senior curate. 
Certain other devout persons, having known of the incident 
that took place in the Conciergerie, gave very humble thanks 
to God on that account. 

The Princesse de Chimay, hearing on her return to France 
of the wonderful circumstance, told the Princesse de Tarente 
of it in 1803. These two ladies had several interviews with 
us, and Madame de Tarente, when passing through Mittau on 
her way to Russia in the following year, informed her Royal 
Highness the Duchesse d'Angouleme of all the details of the 
Queen's Communion — details that she had heard from us and 
from other people who knew them already. 

220 



DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN 

His Majesty Louis XVIII. and Monseigneur the Due 
d'Angouleme were afterwards informed of this consoling 
circumstance, and the royal family joyfully blessed the 
invisible hand that had made it possible, and had carried it 
to a successful issue. 

When Providence gave back to us the descendants of so 
many kings, for whom we had so greatly longed, they had 
already known of our zeal and devotion for more than ten 
years ; but we, satisfied with having done right, and desiring 
to remain unknown, did not put ourselves forward. 

Madame la Princesse de Chimay thwarted our intentions. 
She begged us to go and see her, and then questioned us with 
regard to the scene in the Conciergerie, making us repeat the 
details that she had known for a long time. We gave in to 
her wishes, but we earnestly entreated her not to mention our 
names in the story she proposed to tell Madame la Duchesse 
d'Angouleme, and not to make the facts public. 

Surprised at our resistance, she begged M. TAbbeDesjardins, 
cure of Foreign Missions, and now first vicar-general of the 
Archbishopric of Paris, to urge me to allow my name to be 
given, as a matter of conscience, with a view to making the 
story more authentic. M. Desjardins recently related the 
circumstances in the presence of Monseigneur the Archbishop 
of Paris and a large number of ecclesiastics, and urged me to 
tell the story myself. I was obliged to obey. 

On the 16th October, 1814, I had the honour of being 
received by Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme in her private 
sitting-room, and by her request I gave an accurate account 
of all we did, and of the help that Mademoiselle Fouche and 
I were fortunate enough to give to her august mother, and 
especially of the way in which God had made it possible for 
us to give her the Holy Communion. The Princess listened 
to these sad details in reverent silence, with an expression of 
the liveliest emotion. 

Li 1817 Madame Bault, the widow of the man who was 
gaoler at the prison of La Force, and was afterwards at the 
Conciergerie while Richard and his wife were in prison, offered 
me a copy of some historical notes on the Queen's last days, 
and wrote me a letter, from which the following is an extract ; 

321 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

" Monsieur, — 

The account I have had drawn up, and have the 
honour of sending you, of the last hours of the 
Queen, cannot be dedicated to anyone more suitable 
than yourself, who had the courage, in spite of end- 
less dangers, to make your way into that august 
Princess's prison, in order to give her the conso- 
lations of religion. 

Signed : Widow Bault," 

The original of this letter, the signature of which was 
identified by Bault Jils, gaoler at Sainte-Pelagie, has been 
deposited with M. Champion, notary, 19 Rue de la Monnaie, 
Paris. 

If this account were to be read by none but the well- 
disposed, who would be likely to be convinced by the evidence 
I have put forward, I would stop here ; but since there are 
others, who are under the influence of opinions and teaching 
inimical to religion, and are eager to misinterpret and distort 
every fact that tends to the glory of God, I shall prolong my 
story. 

The fact that the Queen, in her letter to Madame 
Elizabeth, said nothing of her Communion, has been seized 
upon by these people as a proof that I wished to impose upon 
the public. I do not feel called upon to explain the Queen's 
motives : others have done so already, and have said all there 
was to say. 

As a matter of fact, the consideration of the dates alone is 
enough to explain and dissipate the only possible objection 
founded on Her Majesty's letter to Madame Elizabeth. It 
was during the first days of October, 1793, that M. Magnin 
celebrated Holy Mass in the Conciergerie, and during the 
night of the 13th of the same month that M. Cholet again 
gave the Holy Communion to the Queen : and it was on the 
16th, a few hours before entering the fatal cart, that the 
Queen wrote her immortal letter to Madame Elizabeth. 
Being, therefore, at peace with God, she was able to say and 
to write, without the least perversion of the truth, that she 
was in no need of spiritual consolation, seeing that she had 

222 



DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN 

already received it. The need for caution, and her wish to 
shield both the priests who had helped her and those who had 
achieved bringing them to her, would be enough to suggest 
this or any similar expression. Be this as it may, the facts 
speak for themselves; and the following is a still more 
significant one — a word spoken by the Queen herself, which 
leaves no doubt as to her secret. At half-past six in the 
morning, when she had just confided her letter to the gaoler, 
begging him to see that it reached its destination, M. Girard, 
a priest who had taken the oath and had formerly been cure 
of Saint-Landry, but was now vicar-general of Gobel and 
constitutional Bishop of Paris, came to the Queen and offered 
her the help of his ministrations. She declined it. " But, 
Madame," he said, " what will people say when they know 
you refused the consolations of religion at this supreme 
moment ? "" The Queen replied : " You may tell those who 
speak of it to you that the mercy of God provided for me ! " 

M. Girard himself, who forsook the error of his ways and 
returned to the bosom of the Church, did not hesitate to repeat 
Her Majesty's answer to his representations. He told it to 
several people, and notably to M. de Lagny, cure of the parish 
of Bonne-Nouvelle, who made a point of relating the anecdote 
to me on more than one occasion, and more particularly 
during the early days of this month (January). M. Bertrand 
de Molleville also records the circumstance in his History of 
the Revolution of 1789. Assuredly, if a commission were 
appointed to examine into the numerous proofs that establish 
the fact of the Queen's Communion in the Conciergerie — and 
some of these proofs we have passed over in silence — it would 
be obliged to proclaim the truth of the story in the face of 
all the world. Naturally, then, I was surprised to see the 
widespread publication of a brochure whose sole motive was 
to discredit the truth of this incident, and to deprive the 
royal family, after all they have endured, of their most 
cherished source of comfort. 

But my surprise was still greater when I learnt that this 
composition, La fausse communion de la Reine, was the out- 
come of M. TAbbe Lafont d'Aussonne's remarkable imagina- 
tion. I should have been glad, for the honour of the priest- 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

hood, to hide the fact, but it is too well known. He has put 
his name to his work, and is determined not to let anyone else 
have the credit of it. He wrote to me on the subject himself. 

Nor is this all. The writing was attached, five times in 
succession, to the door of my church, in order that my whole 
parish might know about it ! It seems to me that all I have 
said to establish the fact of the Queen's Communion in the 
Conciergerie will suffice to refute the book that tries to 
discredit it ! 

Far be it from me to apply to its author the coarse terms 
of abuse that he so liberally bestows upon me ; but since, 
thanks to the Almighty, he has been snared in his own net, I 
need not hesitate to reveal his shameful methods, and thus, 
by means of his own words, to carry conviction into the most 
prejudiced minds. 

M. Lafont d'Aussonne, in his anxiety lest he should fail to 
win the confidence of the public, tried to beguile the widowed 
Madame Bault, who had settled at Charenton. He paid her 
a visit, and employed all the resources of his fertile imagina- 
tion in his efforts to persuade her to draw up a statement, 
denying what God had accomplished in the Conciergerie. 
Madame Bault, insulted by such a suggestion, rejected his 
request firmly and indignantly ! But this rebuff did not 
disconcert him at all, and thinking he might be more fortunate 
with her son, he visited him too, to prepare his mind for the 
suggestion that he, Lafont d'Aussonne, was about to make. 
On the following day he wrote this letter to M. Bault : 

Letter from M. Lafont d'Aussonne to M. Bault, 

Gaoler of the Prison of Sainte-Pelagie. 
My dear MoNsiEuii Bault, 

I have already told you of the service your mother rendered 
me in April, 1794, when she said to the famous Heron, who 
was taking me to La Force to undergo solitary confinement : 
" Citizen Heron, take that poor young man somewhere else ; 
our cells are full of scurvy and the plague, and he will be 
dead in three days if he comes here." Your mother was able 
to recall the incident when, as I told you, my friendship and 
gratitude led me to visit her a few days ago at her house in 

S24 



DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN 

the country. I take a heartfelt interest in all that concerns 
her good name and that of her late husband, your father ; 
and in the new edition of my Histoire des malheurs et de la 
mort de la Reine I will clear them both of the charge of 
venality which the Sieur Magnin has brought against them in 
a widely-published writing. 

In the meantime, in case Madame Bault should happen to 
die suddenly, which is a thing that may occur to any of us, I 
urgently beg you to ask her in my name for a formal and 
properly signed statement, expressed in the following terms : 

" I, so-and-so (her maiden name), widow of M. Bault, who 
was, during his lifetime, gaoler in the prison of La Force, and 
was appointed to the same post in the Conciergerie during 
the imprisonment of our august Queen Marie Antoinette of 
Austria, declare and attest before God, and call my soul and 
conscience to witness, that my late husband and my eldest 
daughter, who were alone entitled to approach and wait upon 
Her Majesty in prison, and were surrounded by warders and 
gendarmes, never admitted, and would indeed have found it 
physically impossible to admit, any person whatever into the 
cell of the royal prisoner. I attest and declare before God, 
my sovereign judge, that neither my husband nor my daughter 
ever received any money, or linen, or other article intended 
for the Queen, and that, even if they had consented to receive 
anything, the articles in question could never have reached 
their destination, since nothing was given to Her Majesty 
except through the office of the registrar of the Tribunal, 
which office was inspected and managed by Fouquier-Tinville. 
And, consequently, I declare a certain octodecimo publication 
to be false and calumnious ; which publication Lafont d'Aus- 
sonne, the author of a work on the death of the Queen of 
France, showed to me, saying that he had it from M. Tabbe 
Magnin, who signed it. It is said in this publication that 
Mademoiselle Fouche, by means of her mx)ney, won over the 
Queen's warders, who admitted her and M. Magnin several 
times to the cell of the captive Queen. My late husband was a 
good man : he would never have accepted a bribe in the 
exercise of his duties : he never received one from the Sieur 
Magnin or Mademoiselle Fouche or from anyone in the world ; 

225 Q 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

he loved and respected the Queen, and did for her the Httle 
that it was possible for him to do without looking for any 
reward but the satisfaction of his feelings and the fulfilment 
of his duty. 

Finally, I declare that neither my husband, nor ray 
daughter, nor I, knew Mademoiselle Fouche and M. Magnin 
at the time in question : I only made their acquaintance after 
the return of the royal family, and my object in doing so was 
merely to throw light upon their alleged admission to the 
Conciergerie. 

In witness whereof, at Charenton, on the , 1822. 

Widow Bault." 

This, Monsieur, is what it would be advisable for your 
mother to declare formally. In any case I shall assert in my 
book that her conversation with me was to that effect. 
With kindest regards. 

Signed: Lafont D'Aussonne. 

I beg to call the reader's special attention to the phrase : 
" In any case I shall assert in my book that her conversation 
with me was to that effect " ; a luminous phrase when thought- 
fully considered, and a phrase for which M. Tabbe Lafont 
would have a good deal of use. It surely cannot have 
astonished those who had the advantage of knowing him. 

M. Bault Jils was much surprised at being charged with 
such a mission, and merely forwarded this curious letter to 
his mother, who for her part felt nothing but scorn for an 
attempt that was so insulting to all her finer feelings. She 
lost no time in sending the letter in question to me, at the 
same time expressing her indignation. 

M. Lafont, though he received no answer to this wonderful 
letter of July, 1822, which had fallen into my own hands, did 
not fail to fulfil his threats. " In any case I shall assert that 
her conversation with me was to that effect ! " He had been 
indignantly repulsed by the Widow Bault. but he thought 
proper to put into her mouth an endorsement of his senti- 
ments and slanders and upon this foundation he built up 
his worthless romance, which was compiled of statements 
imputed to people who had never signed them nor seen them, 



DECLARATION OF THE ABBE MAGNIN 

and composed of scenes that had never taken place except in 
his imagination ! 

Madame Bault, shortly after sending me this letter from 
Lafont d'Aussonne, wrote to me on the 30th December, 1822, 
for New Year's Day. This is her letter : 

" Honoured and Reverend Sir, 

I beg you to accept my very sincere wishes and prayers for 
your peace of mind and your most entire happiness. If my 
prayers are granted, the treachery and malice of jealous 
persons will be unable to injure you or prevail against you ; 
the wicked will always be confounded. I implore you to 
continue to give me your benevolent protection, and assure 
you that the sentiments will never change with which I beg 
you to believe me, respected and reverend Sir, your very 
humble servant. 

Please ask Mademoiselle Fouche also to accept my wishes 
for her happiness. 

Signed: Widow Bault. 

Charenton, 30th Dec. 1822." 

I will make no observations on these two letters that 
present so great a contrast, the first of which failed to produce 
the effect expected of it by its disingenuous author. I submit 
them, with the story that precedes them, to the consideration 
of the impartial reader. Let him judge. 

I have told, in simple words, as I promised, the story of a 
most consoling incident : the Communion of our Queen in 
the Conciergerie. I have not done so as briefly as I had 
hoped, on account of the numerous details and documents 
with which my pen had to deal. I have even omitted some 
details recorded in certain notes that reached me lately, which 
are very conclusive. I have fulfilled an obligation that was 
laid upon me, and have witnessed to the truth ; and whatever 
the result may be I shall always have the support of my 
conscience, and that is enough for me. 

Executed in Paris, Jan. 26th, 1825. 

Signed : Magnin, 
Cure of Saint-Germain-rAxixerrois. 
227 Q 2 



THE TRIAL 
NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE^ 

COUNSEL FOR THE QUEEN 

(14th-16th October, 1793) 

The trial began at eight o'clock in the morning. It 
continued without a pause until four in the afternoon ; was 
interrupted till five ; and then went on until four o'clock on 
the following morning ; so that except for one brief interval 
of relaxation it lasted for about twenty consecutive hours, 
during which a crowd of witnesses were examined in 
succession. 

Imagine, if you can, the force of will required by the 
Queen to bear the fatigues of a sitting as long and as horrible 
as this ; to endure the gaze of a whole crowd ; to pit herself 
against the monsters who thirsted for her blood ; to 
defend herself against the snares they laid for her ; to over- 
throw all their objections ; to keep meanwhile within the 
bounds of decorum and moderation, and never to be 
unworthy of herself. 

Only those who witnessed every detail of this too-notorious 

^ Chauveau-Lagarde was in the country on the 14th Oct., 1793, when a 
messenger came to inform him that he and TronQon-Ducoudray had been 
chosen to defend the Queen, and that the trial was to begin on the 
following day at eight o'clock. He returned to Paris at once, and 
hastened to the Conciergerie. " I entered the Queen's presence," he 
says, " with feelings of the most devout respect, so that my knees were 
shaking under me, . . . and such was my embarrassment that it could not 
possibly have been equalled had I had the honour of being presented to 
the Queen amid the surroundings of her Court." 

228 



NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE 

trial can have any true idea of the nobility of character 
shown by the Queen on the occasion. 

. . . When the Court rose the first time we retired to the 
prison, to confer together for a moment on the progress of 
the trial up to that time. We were still surrounded by 
gendarmes, who never left us. 

The Queen had seen Manuel's name on the list of 
witnesses who were to be heard that evening. Knowing that 
he had been procureur of the Commune during one of the 
most horrible periods of the Revolution she thought it 
a name of evil omen, and feared he would be unlikely to keep 
to the truth in his deposition. I must, however, do 
Manuel's memory the justice of saying that on this occasion 
he had the honesty to say nothing that could by any means 
be interpreted to the Queen's disadvantage. 

Meantime the Queen asked me what I thought of the 
evidence we had just heard. She went over the diflPerent 
points of it with perfect accuracy, and complained bitterly of 
the lies of which it was chiefly composed. I answered 
her perfectly truthfully that not only was there no proof — 
which was a matter of course — of all the ridiculous slanders 
of the witnesses, but there was not the slightest evidence to 
support them ; and that they as a matter of fact defeated 
their own object by their very scurrility, and by the baseness 
and degradation of those who invented them. 

" In that case," said the Queen, " I fear no one but 
Manuel." At that moment de Busne, the constabulary- 
officer, was relieved, and it afterwards transpired that these 
words of the Queen had been overheard by the gendarmes, 
who repeated them in the Tribunal. . . . 

In the course of the sitting that followed, the Queen gave 
a remarkable . . . proof of her presence of mind and 
strength of character. 

It was at the most painful moment of the trial, when she 
had just experienced a violent shock to her feelings, and one 
of her finest answers to an odious question from one of the 
jurymen ^ had produced a movement of admiration on the 

^ His name is unknown. He was evidently prompted by Hubert, who 
was present at the trial. 

229 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

part of the crowd, which for an instant interrupted the pro- 
ceedings.'^ She noticed the impression she had made, and 
having signed to me to go up to the steps within reach 
of her. Her Majesty said to me in a low voice : 

" Did I not put too much dignity into my answer ? " 

" Madame," I answered, " be yourself, and you will always 
do what is best. But why do you ask me ? " 

" Because," said the Queen, " I heard a woman of the 
people say to her neighbour : See how proud she is ! " 

This remark shows us that the Queen still hoped \ and 
proves, too, that her blameless conscience made her alto- 
gether mistress of herself, since amid all this violent mental 
excitement she heard everything that was said by those 
round her, and tried, in the cause of her own innocence, to 
adapt both her silence and her speech to the situation. . . . 

When the witnesses had all been examined, my colleague 
and I were able to consult together, for a moment, as to the 
best line to take in our speeches. 

M. Tron^on-Ducoudray undertook to defend the prisoner 
against the charge of conspiracy with the people's enemies in 
France, while I was to deal with the charge of conspiracy 
with the foreign powers. 

Hardly had we agreed to this arrangement, and given each 
other all the notes that might possibly bear on our respective 
divisions of the subject, when at the end of a quarter of 
an hour we were called back into the court and obliged 
forthwith to speak without preparation. 

There can be no doubt that, however great the talent that 
M. Tron^on-Ducoudray showed in his address, and however 
great the zeal I may have put into mine, our speeches for the 
defence were necessarily unworthy of such a cause, for which 

' "This was the moment when Marie Antoinette, on being questioned 
with regard to the well-known infamous accusation, turned indignantly 
towards the seats occupied by the public, and appealed to every mother. 
At this sublime appeal a thrill passed through the audience ; the tricottuses 
were moved in spite of themselves, and it would have taken very little to 
make them applaud. . . . Piercing cries arose, women were carried out 
fainting, and the Court was obliged to call the audience to order." 

Information communicated to Mme. Simon-Vouet by the brothers 
Humbert, eye-witnesses. (Maxime de la Rocheterie, Histoire de Marie- 
Antoinette.) 

230 



NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE 

all the eloquence of a Bossuet or a Fenelon would not have 
sufficed, or at least would have been powerless. 

After pleading for two hours I was overcome with fatigue. 
The Queen was kind enough to notice this, and said to me in 
the most touching way : 

« How tired you must be, M. Chauveau-Lagarde ! 1 am 
very grateful for all your efforts 1 " 

These words were heard round her, and did not fail to 
reach her enemies. The sitting was suspended for a moment, 
before M. Tron9on-Ducoudray began to speak. I tried to 
reach the Queen, but in vain, for a gendarme arrested 
me under her very eyes. As soon as M. Tron^on-Ducoudray 
had finished pleading he was arrested in her presence in the 
same way ; and after that we were not allowed to speak 
to her again.^ 

1 The Comte Horace de Viel-Castel, in Marie- Antmnette et la mvolution 
/m4aSrgives a striking description of the sitting of October 15th 

"'''- Attour o'clock (in the afternoon of the 15th) the sitting was suspended 
the audience partially dispersed, and several royalists who were present 
in dSse hurried away to their friends with the good news : The Queen 
ZllhehZslZ. Some emissaries of the Jacobin Club and the Commune 
Sped ramong those whose anxiety or curiosity had prompted them to 
remain, keepinf a watchful eye upon the formei, and exciting the 
revolutionary hatred of the others. Long intervals of silence followed 
interriipted spasmodically by curses directed against the accused, by 
crmplaFntB against the judges, and by threats to disregard the verdict of 
the iurv if it were favourable to the Queen. 

''fit falls early on the 15th October; the cold and melancholy 
darkneis gathered round the houses ; the audience growing ever scantier 
drew together; the proceedings were resumed ; the buzz of conversation 
discreetly became fainter; and by eleven o'clock there was no more 
crversation: Everyone was in a state of suspense The passing and 
rrpasslng of the messengers who, every quarter o an hour, were bringing 
to Robeslierre the minutest details of this long trial, was by midmght the 
£^SZliTtothe silence of the members, who sat round anxiously 
watcMng the royal death-throes. An inspector of prisons called Ducatel 
7ollowed^ by four or five of his subordinates, was trying to detect 
consStors^ or at all events 'suspects,' in this remnant of a mob, still 
:Ztn the middle of the nightf whom he did -^'rorSentember' 
comrades of the 6th October, 1789, nor yet as his comrades of September, 

^^?'%he presence of Ducatel, whose degraded face awakened so many 
horrible memories in the minds of the royalists, had the effect of chasing 
away such of the Queen's friends as feared to attrac the attentio^^^^^^ 
Mme. de Lamballe's murderer, the man who had struck down Mane 
Antoinette's brave and faithful companion with a hammer. 

''The night was slipping by and the cold growing sharper when a voice 

231 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

We were kept in custody in the registrar's office while the 
jury were considering their verdict. It was impossible for us 
to go to the Queen during this interval as we had promised, 
and no doubt this must have made her acutely anxious as to 
the issue of her trial, while to us it was a source of much 
bitterness and sorrow. Soon the jury returned to the court 
to announce the unanimous result of their deliberations. 
Surrounded by gendarmes, among whom the Queen must 
have seen us under arrest, we were led back to the court, to 
hear, with her, the reading of that terrible decree that 
sentenced her to death. 

We could not listen to it undismayed. The Queen alone 
heard it calmly. All that one could see was that there took 
place in her soul at that moment a kind of revulsion of feeling 
that struck me as very remarkable. She did not give the 
least sign of fear, or indignation, or weakness ; but she was, 

rang out with the announcement that the addresses to the jury were over. 
Soon afterwards another voice, which seemed to come through a moment- 
arily opened window, flung into the hall the words : The jury are consider- 
ing their verdict ! 

" Everyone drew near the doors. For a few moments there was a sound 
like the dashing of waves upon a rocky shore, as the scattered groups 
drew together into one, with much confused rustling and the shuffling of 
many feet. Then silence fell again ; the supreme moment was at hand ; 
friends and foes alike were in suspense. Even Ducatel and his policemen 
stood motionless, with their eyes turned towards the doors of the 
Tribunal. 

' ' At last, at four o'clock in the morning, the crowd who had just heard 
the reading of the Queen's sentence left the court in a state of stupefaction, 
and published as they went the news of this sentence of death that for a 
moment had seemed improbable. From mouth to mouth the tidings 
spread that Louis' widow was to be executed that very day in the Place 
de la Revolution. The best-disposed people retired to their houses, and 
closed their shutters against the sounds that would shortly be heard in 
the streets ; while the most morbid repaired to the spot where the 
execution was to take place, and took up their position there in the best 
places, that is to say, the places nearest to the scafibld, which the 
executioner's carpenters were already putting up. 

" It was past four o'clock in the morning by the time the crowd, the 
judges, the jury, and the gendarmes had left the hall of the Revolutionary 
Tribunal. . . . Fouquier-Tinville had retired into a little room attached 
to his chambers, and had flung himself, without undressing, on a bed . . . 
while the jury, whose dinner had been hasty, went down to the refresh- 
ment-room and there awaited the daylight, seated before a supper that 
they had ordered beforehand. . . . And while the public prosecutor was 
asleep, and the jurymen were at their supper, the Queen was led back for 
a few hours to her cell." 



NOTES BY CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE 

as it were, stunned by surprise. She came down the steps 
without a word, without a gesture, and crossed the hall as 
though she neither saw nor heard; then, when she reached 
the barrier and faced the crowd, she raised her head with the 
utmost dignity. It is plain that until that terrible 
moment the Queen had continued to hope ; and yet, without 
hesitating, she displayed the finest kind of courage, for it is 
impossible to show any greater courage than that which 
survives even hope itself. 

In the meantime we were imprisoned in the Conciergerie, 
whither we were led back after the reading of the sentence. 
We were kept there in custody in separate places, and there 
we passed the night. On the following day we were examined 
by an emissary from the Tribunal, who was accompanied by 
gendarmes. We were asked if the Queen had not told us of 
any conspiracy or conspirator, and in spite of our resistance 
we were searched like criminals, to make sure that she had not 
entrusted us with any papers of importance. ... If the Queen 
had confided a secret of any kind to us nothing could have 
induced us to reveal it ; but in this respect our silence 
deserves no credit. As it happened, however, the Queen had 
given to M. Tron^on-Ducoudray, after I was arrested, in the 
interval between our two speeches and just before he began to 
speak, a sealed paper containing a lock of hair and two gold 
rings which the Queen had worn as earrings ; and she had 
asked him to see that they reached the person for whom they 
were intended. He was unable to recover this packet after it 
had been taken from him, and its destination was easily 
discovered without any words of his, seeing that the name 
and address, which he told me afterwards he had forgotten, 
were on the envelope.^ 

As for the question relating to possible revelations made to 
us by the Queen, we answered that she had made none. 

In my case they were very persistent. I was reminded that 
during the trial the Queen had signed to me to go up to her 

^ It was Madame de Jarjayes, the Queen's first woman-of-the-bed- 
chamber, whose husband had planned the escape from the Temple, and 
who had herself won the Queen's confidence by her devotion. She was 
arrested at this time for having received this honourable mark of the 
Queen's remembrance. — (Note by Chauveau-Lagarde.) 

233 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE A^NTOINETTE 

near the steps, so that she might speak to me in a low voice ; 
and that at another time she had certainly spoken to me 
mysteriously about Manuel, by which I plainly saw that the 
latter had not been forgiven for failing to slander her. . . . 
I said with perfect truth that on both these occasions, as on 
all others, the Queen had only spoken to me on the subject 
of her defence. 

After we had been searched and examined we were left in 
the prison ; and when we were set at liberty the Queen was no 
more. 



234 



EXTRACT FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS 
OF MOELLE^ 

A MEMBER OF THE COMMUNE AND A WITNESS IN THE TRIAL 

(15th-16th October, 1793) 

Those who were implicated, as well as the witnesses, were 
heard in the order with which the public is already acquainted, 
until about two o'clock in the afternoon, when the Court rose 
for the first time. We were taken into the registrar's outer 
office, where I dined with Bailly. 

Beside us, at the same table, sat M. de la Tour-du-Pin,^ 
formerly Minister of War, and M. de la Tour-du-Pin- 
Gouvernet, both of whom were implicated in the trial and 
were afterwards condemned to death by the Revolutionary 
Tribunal. 

The proceedings were resumed at three o'clock, and those 
of us who had not been confronted with the royal prisoner 
were taken back to the precincts of the Tribunal, to the room 
in which we had been during the morning. I was not called 
at all on the first day, and at about ten o'clock at night I was 
taken back to the Abbaye prison. On the following day, the 
15th October, I was at last confronted with the Queen. 

^ We have already given the portion of Moelle's Narrative that concerns 
the imprisonment in the Temple. We have given this further passage 
separately because it supplements Chauveau-Lagarde's notes. Later on 
we shall quote another extract from the same narrative, bearing more 
particularly on the subject of the execution. 

^ M. de la Tour-du-Pin, when he appeared before the Queen in the 
Tribunal, made her a profound bow, which he repeated when he had 
finished giving his evidence. The circumstances being what they were, 
this act of homage to a woman in the depths of misfortune showed a very 
high degree of courage and determination. 

235 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

I was questioned as to the understanding that I was 
accused of having had with the royal family in the Temple. 
I answered, on this count, that I had never had any relations 
with them but such as were entailed by the duties of my 
office ; and that on the part of the royal family themselves I 
had noticed nothing, the first time I was with them, beyond 
the curiosity natural to prisoners in such circumstances ; and 
that indeed I knew nothing whatever about the facts men- 
tioned in the indictment. 

I was on the point of mentioning a detail in the arrange- 
ments at the Temple, and the system of constant vigilance 
that obtained there, by way of trying to prove the falsity of 
Hebert's infamous accusation against the Queen, when 
Fouquier-Tinville, the public prosecutor, divining my inten- 
tion, interrupted me rudely with a request to answer Ves or 
No as to whether I had had any understanding with the 
accused. 

My answer was a decided negative, which I accompanied 
with a gesture to the same effect. The royal prisoner, on 
being questioned in her turn, answered in these precise words : 
/ had no sort of understanding with the taitness. This was 
the end of my evidence in the Queen's trial. 

In the report of the trial my evidence was reduced to a single 
sentence, although I was speaking for more than a quarter of 
an hour. Finally, let me recall the parting glance with 
which the august princess honoured me. . . . That must 
always be my most cherished reward ! At that moment my 
dearest hope was to die for the sacred cause to which I had 
vowed myself, and my greatest pride was that I had earned 
the happiness of doing so.^ 

That same evening I was taken back to the Abbaye. On 
the following day, the 16th October, all of us who were con- 
fined in that prison heard an extraordinary noise going on all 
round, and this, combined with the sound of the firing of guns, 

^ As I crossed the space in front of the bench, which had been invaded 
by a large number of spectators, a man, who was standing by as I was 
being led out of the court by two gendarmes, pressed my left arm and said 
to me: "Bravo, citoyenJ" I admit that I was grateful for this sign 
that my behaviour in such circumstances had made a good impression on 
those who were able to appreciate it. — {Note by Moelle.) 



THE RECOLLECTIONS OF MOELLE 

inspired us with alarm — which was not ill-founded — as to 
what was going forward outside. 

Personally, when I heard the report of guns, I attributed it 
to some attempt to oppose the Queen's execution, while the 
trampling of the crowd that was audible round the prison- 
walls I took to mean a repetition of the massacres that had 
taken place almost exactly a year before. 

I vacillated between these two theories. 

Supposing it possible that this noise meant a successful 
attempt in the direction of my wishes and hopes, it was a 
matter for self-congratulation ; but if the other theory were 
the correct one I had all the horrors before me of a second 
storming of the prisons. 

This uncertainty kept me in a state alternating between 
terror and hope for more than two hours, at the end of which 
time the turnkeys came to tell me that the noises we had 
heard round the Abbaye were due to the efforts of the mob 
to secure certain Austrian prisoners who were being brought 
to this prison ; and that the guns were being fired to celebrate 
B,J'ete in honour of Marat. At that very moment one of the 
most august and touching victims of that dreadful time was 
being wickedly done to death. 



237 



THE EXECUTION 

The Narratives of the Turnkey Larivierej the Officer of 
Gendarmerie de Busne^ the Gendarme L^ger, the Vieomte 
Charles DesfosseS;, and de Rouy, author of Le Magicien 
Republicain. 



NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIERE ^ 

TURNKEY IN THE CONCIERGEBIE 

My father and mother, after having been for thirty years 
in the service of Monseigneur le Due de Penthievre, Lord 
High Admiral of France, were appointed by that excellent 
prince to be the concierges of the Admiralty Court.^ 

Our powerful patron, knowing that I was anxious to learn 
the art of confectionery as thoroughly as possible, made 
interest for me with the King's steward, and thus when I 
was but fourteen years old I was an apprenticed pastrycook 
in the King's own palace of Versailles. 

The 6th October was an unfortunate day for me. 

The royal family left the palace for ever ; two-thirds of 
the household were discharged ; and I went off to Paris to the 
bosom of my family. 

^ Louis Larivi^re was a pastrycook at Saint-Mand6 in 1824, when he told 
his recollections of the Queen's last hours to Lafont d'Aussonne. His 
short story may be easily verified, and although it comes to us, like 
Rosalie Lamorli^re's, through the pen of the Queen's unscrupulous 
biographer, we believe it may be regarded as perfectly reliable. 

^ There is, in the Almanack Royal for 1780 and the following years, a 
reference that confirms this statement. The Admiralty Court of France, 
Marble table. Larivi^re, concierge and keeper of the refreshment -room in the 
Law Courts, 

238 



NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIERE 

My father also lost his place some time afterwards, owing 
to the suppression of the Admiralty Court ; but as his 
quarters were neither convenient nor pleasant, it did not occur 
to anyone to deprive him of them. The windows of these 
rooms, which were barred with enormous gratings, were on 
the second floor, and looked out over the great Cour du Preau 
within the precincts of the Conciergerie. 

One day when Richard the gaoler came to see my old 
father he saw me in the corner of the room, where for 
want of something to do, I was sitting with my arms crossed. 
" What do you mean to do," he said to my parent, " with 
this great lazybones, who, as far as I can see, is strong and 
well ? If he can write, and I don't doubt that he can, you 
must just hand him over to me. I am in need of a good 
trustworthy turnkey. I will be a good master to him, and 
the arrangement will enable you to see him often." 

We were very willing to accept Richard's suggestion, and 
I forthwith took up my duties in that vast Conciergerie that 
I had hitherto only seen through our grated windows. 

On the 2nd August, 1793, I was on duty at the entrance, 
at the first inner door of the Conciergerie, and although I 
was on guard I was asleep in a big leather armchair. Sud- 
denly I heard someone knocking on the door, not with the 
hammer, but heavily with the butt-end of a musket. I 
promptly opened the iron grating, and then the entrance- 
door, and saw a tall, beautiful woman, who was being brought 
in by several officers and directors of the prison. The 
moment the full light of the hall fell upon her face I re- 
cognised her as my former revered mistress, the widow of the 
King of France, who had been put to death. She was 
dressed in a long black garment, which enhanced the extra- 
ordinary whiteness of her skin. At that moment I thought 
her little changed, because the agitation and exertion she 
had just been through had revived all her natural colour. 

Those who had brought her to the place intended at first 
to confine her in the registrar's office, which opens out of the 
entrance-hall ; but they quickly changed their minds, and, 
turning to the right through the dark passage, they showed 
Her Majesty to her room. At about six o'clock in the morn- 

239 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

ing, when it was full daylight, the gaoler took me aside and 
said : " Go off and find your mother, and tell her I have 
decided to have her as the Queen's attendant for a few days. 
Your mother's health is good, even if she is old. The 
directors have accepted her for the post on my description of 
her. I hope she will not distress me by refusing it." 

I conveyed this proposition to my mother without delay. 
She was greatly grieved to hear that the Queen of France 
was likely to be tried at no distant date ; but on every 
account she had no hesitation in going down to the 
Conciergerie. 

As she was admitted to the Queen's room before the ar- 
rival of the two gendarmes, she had time to make her 
personal sentiments plainly understood ; and as she was an 
intelligent woman, and had lived among the great ones of 
the earth all her life, she was able to express herself in a few 
tactful words, which won her the immediate approval and 
even the regard of the Queen. She had been handsome in 
her youth, and in her old age she was neither repellent nor 
unpleasing. She always told us that Her Majesty had 
treated her much better than she had any right to expect. 

My mother told the Queen that I had been in her own 
service, and that now I was reduced to accepting employment 
in the prison. 

The day after she took up her duties my mother left the 
Queen's cell for a moment, and commissioned me to go out 
and buy half a yard of voile or of some other woollen 
material, with which to patch Her Majesty's black dress, 
which was torn under both arms and frayed round the hem 
by the constant friction of stone floors. I was further 
ordered to buy some sewing-silk, some thread, and some 
needles, and to return quickly. 

When I entered the Queen's cell with the various little 
articles I have just mentioned, and gave them to my good 
mother. Her Majesty condescended to thank me with a 
gracious movement of her head. 

After four or five days the directors of the prison told my 
mother that this post was too arduous for her age, and 
replaced her by a young woman called Harel, who in the 

240 



NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIERE 

course of the following month denounced Michonis, and the 
stranger who brought in the carnation with the hidden 
paper. 

Before this unlucky affair of the carnation the hardships of 
the Conciergerie were not altogether intolerable. The eight 
turnkeys were on duty for seven consecutive days, and were 
free on the eighth. One day M. Gilbert-des-Voisins, Presi- 
dent of the Parlement, took me privately into a corner and 
spoke as follows : " Lariviere, you seem to me to be a good 
fellow. It depends on yourself to make your fortune and 
save my life. I cannot explain my meaning to you here, but 
the day after to-morrow is your free day, and my valet will 
go and see you at your own home. I implore you to listen to 
the suggestions I have empowered him to make to you." 

We separated, for fear of being observed, and two days 
later the president's valet came to see me as arranged, in a 
little room on the Quai de THorloge, which I rented for the 
sake of liberty. He said to me : " Lariviere, all M. Gilbert-des- 
Voisin's immense possessions have been seized and sequestrated ; 
his house is full of officials ; his enemies have sworn that he 
shall die, and he is a dead man if you do not help him. I 
was fortunate enough to save from the wreck a sum of 
eighteen thousand francs in gold, which I have put in a safe 
place. My master empowers me to offer it to you (till we 
can do better) on condition that you help him to escape by 
the dark passage to the chapel, the passage that leads down 
to the little spiral staircase and ends in the outer court of the 
Sainte-Chapelle." 

I answered this poor young man that all the treasures of 
the world could not make it possible to carry out this plan of 
escape, seeing that the enormous bolts of all these old doors 
were chained to make them immovable, and that unless the 
sentry on guard outside were first murdered the least noise 
within would betray what was going on. 

A few days after this the affair of the flower took place in 
the Queen's cell. On the very same day Fouquier heard of it, 
when he made his ordinary visit of inspection in the evening. 
On the following day all permits were cancelled ; all the 
turnkeys and other persons employed about the place were 

241 R 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

forbidden to leave the building until further orders ; Richard 
was taken off to prison with his family, and replaced by the 
gaoler from La Force, whose name was Bault. 

In Richard's time I was sometimes employed in the kitchen, 
when there was too much work for Rosalie ; and feeling that 
this was an opportunity of being useful to Her Majesty I 
liked best to prepare the dishes that Rosalie intended for her. 
One day I was cooking some peas for the Queen when one of 
the directors of the prison, who knew what I was doing, came 
prying round the range. While I was attending to something 
else he took the opportunity of presuming to lift the lid of 
my saucepan. I happened to see it, and the moment his 
back was turned I took the peas and threw them into the 
cinders, for I feared the rascal might have poisoned them. 
Four or five times Madame Richard found it convenient to 
send me to the Queen's cell instead of Rosalie, who no doubt 
was otherwise employed. I carried in Her Majesty's meals 
on these occasions. She thanked me with a movement of her 
head, without speaking. 

While my mother was there I went into the cell one day in 
the uniform of the National Guard, for I was not exempted 
from serving in that body by my new employment. Her 
Majesty said to my mother : " Pray ask your son, our former 
servant, not to wear that uniform again in my presence, 
for it reminds me of the 6th October and all the misfortunes 
of my family." 

The next time I saw my mother at home she spoke to me 
briefly, and very sadly, on this subject ; and in obedience to 
Her Majesty's wishes I no longer wore my uniform in the 
prison. 

On the 16th October, at ten o'clock in the morning, the 
gaoler Bault told me to go and wait for him in the Queen's 
cell, and to take away any cups or glasses there might be on 
the table. He gave me this order, I fancy, so that I might 
see what was about to take place, and that having seen it, I 
might describe it to him afterwards ; which is exactly what 
occurred. 

When the Queen saw me come into her cell she said to me 
sadly : " Lariviere, you know that they are going to put me 

242 



NARRATIVE OF LOUIS LARIVIERE 

to death ? . . . Tell your good mother that I thank her 
for her care of me, and that I entreat her to pray for me." 

I had hardly entered the cell (where I saw a new officer of 
gendarmerie), before the judges arrived with their registrar 
Fabricius. Her Majesty, who was on her knees beside her 
truckle-bed, rose to receive them. The president said : " Pay 
attention : your sentence is about to be read to you " ; and 
they all four uncovered their heads, which was never their 
custom on occasions of the kind. It seemed to me that they 
were almost startled by the Queen's air of majesty and 
goodness. 

" It is needless to read it," said the Queen in a clear voice. 
" I know the sentence only too well." " No matter," answered 
one of the men ; " it must be read to you again." Her 
Majesty made no answer, and the registrar began to read. 

Just as he had finished I saw the chief executioner, Henri 
Sanson,^ come into the room. He was a young man at that 
time, and immensely tall. He came up to the Queen and 
said, " Hold out your hands." Her Majesty recoiled a step 
or two, and answered in a troubled voice, " Are my hands to 
be bound ? Louis XVI.'s were not bound." The judges said 
to Sanson, " Do your duty." 

" Oh, my God ! " cried the Queen distractedly. 

As she spoke Henri roughly seized her poor hands and 
bound them too tightly behind her back. I saw the Queen 
raise her eyes to heaven with a sigh, but though her tears 
were ready to flow she restrained them. 

When her hands were bound Sanson removed her cap and 
cut off her hair. 

Her Majesty perhaps thought they were going to kill her 
on the spot, for she turned round with a look of deep emotion, 
and saw the executioner taking possession of her hair and 

^ The chief executioner in October, 1793, was Charles Henri Sanson, who 
was born in 1739 and was therefore no longer a young man. His son 
Henri Sanson succeeded him on the 18th Fructidor, year III., but long 
before this had been in the habit of taking his father's place at executions. 
It has been alleged that Charles Henri died of grief for having guillotined 
Louis XVI. ! It is hardly necessary to say that this is legendary ; but as 
a matter of fact he never performed the duties of his office after Jan. 21st. 
His son, though not officially appointed, practically replaced him. On 
the whole Larivi^re's statements are correct. 

243 R 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

putting it in his pocket to carry away. (It was burnt in the 
great vestibule after the execution.) 

This is what I saw : this is what I would I had never seen : 
this is what I shall never forget as long as I live. 

P.S. — I must not omit to say that the gendarme Gilbert, 
and Dufrene too, received a commission after the Queen's 
death. Gilbert, in spite of my parents' opposition, won the 
heart of my sister Julie, and married her. He made her the 
unhappiest woman in the world, for he was the most depraved 
gendarme that ever lived. One day he went off and gambled 
away all the funds belonging to his company, and then blew 
his brains out in despair.^ 

^ Here Larivi^re's story ceases. Lafont d'Aussonne has added a few 
lines on the subject of Marie Antoinette's Communion, but we will not 
repeat them, having already warned our readers of that historian's par- 
ticular bias. 



244 



THE NARRATIVE OF DE BUSNE 

Louis FRAN901S de Busne entered the Dauphin's regiment in 
1757. He served under Louis XV., Louis XVL, and Napoleon, 
and at the time of the Restoration was serving in the Hotel des 
Invalides as senior adjutant. He had then seen twenty-nine 
years of service and seven campaigns. He was a Knight of the 
Legion of Honour. (Archives of the War Office.) 

There is in existence a letter written by him in I8I6 to 
Madame la duchesse d'Angouleme, in which he makes the most 
of his considerate behaviour to the Queen. "I am," he says, 
" that officer whom M. de Montjoie in his immortal Histoire de 
Marie Antoinette, your august mother, describes as being de- 
nounced, arrested, and accused, because he had obeyed the 
dictates of his heart, and in his willingness to end his days 
under the knife of the revolutionaries had done his duty with 
respect and devotion." He then demanded the Order of Saint 
Louis. 

It is true that de Busne, whose name Rosalie Lamorli^re 
mentions at the end of her story, was Marie Antoinette's last 
" body-guard." He it was who, as officer of the Gendarmerie of 
the Tribunals, accompanied her to the court where she was tried, 
and took her back to the cell where she was to await the hour 
of her martyrdom. 

On this occasion he was guilty of an unpardonable crime. 
He held his hat in his hand while he was escorting the accused : 
he took the trouble of going to fetch her a glass of water : and 
finally he offered her his arm to help her down the dark stair- 
case of the prison. In the evening of that very day he was de- 
nounced ! 

If we reproduce here the few lines he wrote in his own 
defence it is not nearly so much for the sake of the details they 
record as to show how great must have been the terror that the 
Revolutionary Tribunal inspired in everyone, since an officer in 

245 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

the army humiliated himself so far as to apologise, as though for 
serious faults, for behaving with ordinary consideration towards a 
woman who was about to die. 

What is the crime of which I am accused by this citizen ^ 
and those who share his opinions ? Of having given a glass 
of water to the accused, because the citizen ushers were for 
the moment absent on the service of the Tribunal : of having 
held my hat in my hand, which I did for my own convenience 
because the weather was hot, and not from respect for a 
woman who was condemned to death, as I believe, justly. 

That excellent citizen the public prosecutor had given us 
to understand that there was an officer appointed to escort the 
prisoner, in accordance with the usual practice in the prison. 
As the Widow Capet was walking along the passage on her 
way to the inner staircase of the Conciergerie, she said to 
me : " I can hardly see where I am going." I offered her my 
right arm, and with its help she descended the staircase. 
She took it again as she went down the three slippery steps of 
the yard. It was to prevent her from falling that I behaved 
in this way, and no sensible man could detect any other 
motive in my action ; for if she had fallen on the stairs there 
would have been an outcry about conspiracy, and treason, 
and the undoubted complicity of the gendarmerie. How is 
it possible to distort my motives ? The laws of nature, my 
mission, and the laws of the most formidable of States, all 
taught me that it was my duty to keep her safe for the 
accomplishment of her sentence. 

Signed: De Busne. 

Lieutenant of gendarmerie quartered 
at the Courts of Law, and Member of 
the popular Society of French Guards. 

^ Jourdeuil, gendarme of the Tribunals, who had denounced de Busne. 



246 



NARRATIVE OF THE GENDARME 
LEGER^ 

(Extracts from the Recollections of Moelle, Member of the Commune) 

I HAVE discovered, in connection with the Queen's last 
moments in prison, some details that have hitherto been 
unknown, or have, at all events, been unpublished until 
now. 

A gendarme called Leger, formerly a grenadier in the 
French Guards, whom I noticed among those who were 
guarding the Queen while I was giving my evidence at the 
trial, and who, when I saw him again, was keeping a little 
eating-house behind the Military School, told me that he and 
another gendarme had been appointed to guard the royal 
victim after the sentence had been pronounced. 

According to Leger the Queen did not return to the room 
she had hitherto occupied in the Conciergerie. She was 
taken to a room that was built up in a corner of the 
registrar's outer office and was generally occupied by such 
of the condemned prisoners as could not be executed till the 
day after they were sentenced. It was here that the Queen 
spent her last night. 

^ M. Campardon accepted this evidence, and in a matter of this kind 
the opinion of that eminent historian is of great weight. If, however, 
we are to believe that Marie Antoinette did not return to her ordinary 
cell on the 16th October, we must reject Rosalie's story as well as that of 
Mme. Bault. We may remark in passing that Moelle's evidence must be 
received cautiously in this matter, since he makes a mistake himself. " It 
was here," he says, "that the Queen spent her last night." The night 
was spent in the Tribunal : it was past four o'clock in the morning when 
the sentence was pronounced, 

247 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

According to this same man Leger the Queen asked for 
some food, and a chicken was put before her, of which she 
ate a wing. Before going to bed she also asked if she might 

change her chemise The gaoler^s wife procured a clean 

one for her. 

The Queen, according to this authority, slept fairly well, 
and rose at about five o'clock in the morning.^ Then she 
asked to have some chocolate brought to her, and it was 
procured from the cafe near the entrance of the Conciergerie. 
They only brought her what is called a mignonette^ which 
Leger thought such an insufficient quantity that he abstained 
from tasting it — the usual test of all the food eaten by the 
royal victim. 

When she rose she put on the white dress that she was seen 
wearing on the scaffold. When the time came for her final 
ordeal she was led from the room where she had passed the 
night into the registrar's office, between two rows of gen- 
darmes reaching from the door of the room to that of the 
office. In the office her hair was cut off — the hair that was 
blanched by so many sorrows. It was in a deplorable state 
of disorder 

The Queen only left this fatal building to enter the cart, 
which awaited her at the door of the Conciergerie, and 
conveyed her to the spot where her troubles ceased for ever. 

^ As we have already said, the Queen did not leave the Tribunal until 
shortly before five in the morning. 



g48 



THE NARRATIVE OF DESESSARTS^ 

At five o'clock the assembly was sounded in all the Sections 
of Paris ; at seven all the troops were afoot, and guns were 
mounted at the ends of every bridge, in all the squares, and 
at every junction of roads that lay between the Law Courts 
and the Place de la Revolution ; at ten o'clock numbers of 
patrols scoured the streets of Paris ; the traffic was stopped 
in the streets through which Marie Antoinette was to pass ; 
at eleven o'clock she came out of the Conciergerie, dressed in 
a loose garment of white pique. She entered the executioner's 
cart, where a constitutional priest sat at her side ; and she 
was escorted by numerous detachments of gendarmerie, some 
on foot, some mounted. 

Marie Antoinette, as she passed by, looked indifferently at 
the troops that lined the streets through which she had to 
drive. There was no sign of dejection on her face, nor yet of 
pride ; she looked quite calm, and seemed hardly to notice 
the cries of Vive la Repuhlique ! Down with tyranny ! that 
rose as she went by. It was observed that she said very 
little to the confessor, and that she looked with indifferent 
eyes at the people who were at the windows. She seemed to 
notice the tricoloured pennants in the Rue Saint-Honore ; 
and she was observed to glance at the inscriptions fixed upon 
the house-fronts. At twelve o'clock, when she reached the 
Place de la Revolution, she turned her eyes towards the 
Garden of the Tuileries, and at that moment she changed 
colour and grew much paler than before. She then ascended 
the scaffold, and the knife fell. 

^ Published in the year VII. in Les Proems fameux jugds depuis la 
Revolution, Vol. IV., p. 176. 

249 



THE NARRATIVE OF THE 
VICOMTE CHARLES DESFOSSES^ 

The gate opened and the victim appeared, pale, but every 
inch a Queen. Behind her came Sanson, the executioner, 
holding the ends of a thick cord, which held back the elbows 
of the Royal prisoner. She walked the necessary yard or 
two to reach the step of the cart, which had been sup- 
plemented by a little ladder of four or five rungs. The 
executioner, who guided the Queen's footsteps, was followed 
by an assistant. Sanson supported the victim with his hand. 
The Queen — it was indeed the Queen ! — turned round gravely 
to climb over the seat and sit down facing the horses, but the 
two executioners indicated that she was to take the opposite 
place. Meanwhile the priest climbed into the cart. These 
arrangements took some time. 

One circumstance that struck me was that the executioner 
was obviously careful to allow the cords he was holding to 
hang loosely and freely. He stood behind the Queen, sup- 
porting himself against the boards of the cart ; his assistant 
was at the back ; they both stood and held their three- 
cornered hats in their hands. The cart, when it had left the 
court, passed slowly along through an enormous crowd of 
people, who thronged the streets through which it went, but 
neither shouted, nor muttered, nor insulted the prisoner. It 
was only at the entrance to the Rue Saint-Honore, after a 
long drive, that any disturbance arose. The priest said little 
or nothing. 

1 Quoted by M. H. Wallon, in his Histoire dit, Tribunal R6volutionnaire 
de Paris, Vol. I., p. 349. 

250 







THE QUEEN ON HER WAY TO THE 3CAFF0LD. 

Sketched from nature by David, from a window in the Rue Saint-Honore, 

October 16, 1793. 



251 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

I had time to observe the details of the Queen*'s appearance 
and of her dress. She wore a white skirt with a black 
petticoat under it, a kind of white dressing-jacket, some 
narrow silk ribbon tied at the wrists, a plain white muslin 
fichu, and a cap with a bit of black ribbon on it. Her hair 
was quite white and was cut short round her cap ; her face was 
pale, but there was a touch of red upon the cheek-bones ; 
her eyes were bloodshot and the lashes motionless and stiff. 
The Queen did not utter a word to the priest till they were 
opposite to the entrance to the Jacobin Club, which was then 
a passage. On the arch that surmounted the gate of this 
passage a large placard had been fixed, bearing this inscrip- 
tion : Manufactory of republican arms for the destruction of 
tyrants. I thought the Queen must have had some difficulty, 
in reading it, for she suddenly turned to the priest and seemed 
to be asking him something, whereupon, for a moment, he 
held up a little ivory crucifix upon which his eyes had been 
fastened the whole time. At the same instant Grammont,^ 
who had been escorting the cart from the first, raised his 
sword, brandished it about in every direction, and, standing 
up in his stirrups, shouted in a loud voice some words that 
I could not catch ; then turned towards the fatal cart with an 
oath : " There she is," he cried ; " there is the infamous, the 
accursed Antoinette, my friends ! " A few drunken shouts 
arose in response, and then one of my friends made a sign to 
me as we had arranged, and I slipped into the crowd. We 
were forced to give up all hope of saving the Queen. 

^ Grammont had once been an actor. He took part in the massacre of 
the prisoners from Orleans, at Versailles, and boasted of having drunk 
from the skull of one of his victims. Campardon, Le Tribional rivolution- 
naire de Paris, Vol. I. , p. 149. 



252 



THE NARRATIVE OF ROUY^ 

Author of Le Magicien Bepitblicain 

The trial was brought to a close on the 23rd, or, according 
to the old reckoning, on Wednesday, the 16th, at half- past 
four in the morning, by the reading of the sentence of the 
Tribunal, which condemned the prisoner to the penalty of 
death. She listened to it with great composure, and came 
down into the court with a step as light as when she entered 
the boudoirs of Saint-Cloud and Trianon to indulge in her 
voluptuous pleasures, and to make that great lout, her 
husband Capet, a bigger fool than he was already. She then 
gave a gold ring, and a packet containing some of her hair, 
to one of her counsel,^ to give to a woman called Hiary, 
who lived at Livry with Citoyenne Laborde, and whom she 
declared to be her friend. Then she asked for a confessor to 
assist her at the last ; and as, like any other criminal, she 
was afraid of being seen, she begged for a carriage to convey 
her to the scaffold, or a veil to cover her head. But as this 
sort of favouritism would have been an offence to the 
principle of equality she was refused these things, on the 
ground that she was required to suffer the utmost rigour of 
the law. 

At twelve or fifteen minutes past eleven she came out of 
the prison of the Conciergerie, and climbed into the same 
cart that was used when any other condemned prisoner was 
to be taken off to the scaffold. She was dressed in a white 

^ Quoted by Dauban. 

^ This is false. Troncon-Ducoudray and Chauveau-Lagarde had been 
arrested, as we have seen, before the sentence was even pronounced. 

253 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

morning-wrapper, and on her head was a very common cap. 
Her hair was cut short, and her hands were tied behind her 
back. Her face was pale and very languid, but this was due 
to her bad state of health in the prison more than to the 
approach of the just penalty that she was about to suffer ; 
for though she looked rather downcast as she got into the 
cart she never lost the proud, haughty expression and bearing 
that were so characteristic of her. Throughout the journey 
from the Law Courts to the foot of the scaffold she was 
calmly looking about her at the vast crowd, who filled the 
air with cries of Vive la Republique ! When she reached the 
Place de la Revolution she looked earnestly, with some 
emotion, at the palace of the Tuileries. Her confessor, who 
sat beside her, spoke to her, but she seemed not to be listen- 
ing to him, nor even to be conscious that he was speaking. 
The cart drew up before the scaffold, and she alighted easily 
and promptly, without requiring any support, though her 
hands were still tied. In the same way she ascended the 
scaffold with an air of bravado : she seemed calmer and more 
undisturbed even than when she left the prison. Without 
saying a word to the people or the executioners she submitted 
to the final preparations, shaking her cap from her head 
herself. Her execution and the horrible prelude lasted for 
about four minutes. At a quarter-past twelve precisely her 
head fell under the iron avenger of the law, and the execu- 
tioner showed it to the people amid repeated shouts of Vive 
la Republique ! Vive la liheHe ! 

While the executioners were untying the cords that bound 
her body to the plank so that they might put her remains 
into the basket that was waiting to receive them, one of the 
men searched her pocket, and drew from it a little box, which 
he instantly opened. He took out of it the portraits of 
her favourite Lafayette and of her husband, and showed 
them to the people, who shouted louder than ever : Vive la 
Republique ! ^ 

1 This last detail appears to be absolute invention. Apart from the 
fact that Lafayette is well known to have been, for many reasons, anything 
but a favourite with the Queen, we have already seen that the latter had 
been deprived of all her trinkets while she was in the Conciergerie. 

254 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 

When Marie Antoinette, at half-past four in the morning, left 
the Tribunal where she had just been condemned to death, she 
wrote to Madame Elizabeth the letter that has so often been 
printed under the title of The Queen's Will, This writing is 
sublime in its heartrending simplicity, but is so well known that 
it is unnecessary to give the entire text of it here. We will 
merely observe that Madame Elizabeth never received this letter. 
No one even took the trouble to inform her of the Queen's death. 
When, on the 20th Flor^al, year II., the Princess in her turn was 
brought from the Temple to the Conciergerie, she inquired 
eagerly after the Queen, — whom she called "^'her sister," — and 
asked Richard if it were long since he had seen her. He 
answered : "She is very well, and wants for nothing." 

Throughout the night Madame Elizabeth appeared uneasy. 
She perpetually asked Richard to tell her the time ; for he was 
sleeping in a dark room adjoining the recess where she herself 
was lying down. She rose early : Richard had already risen. 
She again asked the time, and Richard took out his watch to show 
her the hour, and made it strike. " My sister," she said, " had 
one rather like it ; but she never wound it up." She took nothing 
but a little chocolate : then, at eleven o'clock, she went out to 
the entrance of the prison. A number of grandes dames, who 
were going to the scaffold with her,^ had already gathered at the 
door. Among them was Madame de S^nozan, the sister of the 
minister Malesherbes who defended the King, and the best and 
most charitable of women. Madame Elizabeth begged Richard 
to remember her to her sister. Then one of the ladies spoke. 

^ In addition to Mme. de S6nozan the hatch included five members of 
the family of Lomenie de Brienne, the widowed Mme. de Montmorin and 
her son, etc. 

255 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

" Madame/' she said, " your sister has suffered the fate that we 
are about to suffer ourselves." ^ 

The Queen's last letter, then, was cruelly intercepted. Bault the 
gaoler, to whom the condemned woman entrusted it, gave the 
paper to Fouquier-Tinville, who wrote his signature on it and kept 
it for some time. 

After the ninth Thermidor the commission charged with 
examining Robespierre's papers appointed Edme Bonaventure 
Courtois, deputy of the Aube and manufacturer of sabots at Arcis, 
to draw up a report on the subject. Courtois, who had i-emained 
almost unknown through the Terror, quickly achieved, thanks to 
this inquiry that had been entrusted to him, a certain amount of 
fame. The energy he brought to bear on his mission is well 
known, for an enormous number of copies were printed of his 
report, which filled two volumes ; but what Courtois was very 
careful to keep to himself was that one day, when he was alone 
in the house of the carpenter Duplay, where Robespierre lived, 
he made a very minute search in Maximilien's room, and found, in 
a secret recess very skilfully contrived underneath the bed of the 
Incorruptible, various valuable books and papers, not to mention a 
picture, all of which were connected with the royal family.^ 

No doubt this fact may be denied, for we have no evidence on 
the subject but that of Courtois' son ; but it is incontestable, 
apparently, that Robespierre was guilty of a much more serious 
fault than the pilfering of a picture and a few interesting books. 
He had appropriated the letter in which the Queen, in the hour 
of her death, bade farewell to her children. In every country 
and in every age the last wishes of the dying have been con- 
sidered sacred ; but this sentiment was unknown to the heartless 
man who personified the cold ethics of the Revolution. The 
Queen's letter was actually found in his room by Courtois : 
Robespierre had begged it of Fouquier-Tinville, who was able 
to refuse him nothing. What use did he mean to make of it ? 

^ Souvenir de I'Internonce a Paris pendant la R6volution. 

^ ' ' Robespierre was an unscrupulous collector. The conventionist, who 
was apparently interested in literature and art, took possession of books 
and pictures as it suited him, and in his desire to conceal how he obtained 
them, hid them between his mattresses ! ! ! Yes, it was actually between 
his mattresses that the bibliophile Robespierre hid various classics bear- 
ing the arms of the royal family, such as the Letters of Cicero, the Works 
of Seneca, etc. , of which the conventionist must undoubtedly have taken 
possession in the Temple, after Louis XVI.'s death." 

Paul Eudel, Uhdtel Drouot et la curiosity. The picture and the books 
in question were shown at the historical exhibition at Orleans in 1876, 

256 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 

Why ! the same use that Courtois meant to make of it when, 
understanding instantly the value of his discovery, he folded up 
the paper that was still stained with the Queen's tears, put it in 
his pocket, and without saying a word to anyone took off to his 
own house the only legacy that the poor woman had bequeathed 
to her children. The years passed by. Courtois, having become 
a member of the Committee of General Security, afterwards 
joined the Council of Ancients, and made himself conspicuous 
by his counter-revolutionary ardour. He pursued the Jacobins 
with special harshness, suspecting them always of conspiracy. 
The coup d'Etat of the 18th Brumaire had no warmer partisan: he 
was elected a tribune, but at the time of the first " elimination " 
an accusation of embezzlement obliged him to part from his 
colleagues. Having assumed the name of Degon he entered 
into a partnership with an army contractor, and took advantage 
of his position as a member of the Committee of General 
Security to intimidate his partner into giving him profits to 
which he had no right. On the first occasion he extorted a 
hundred and twenty thousand francs from him ; then twelve 
thousand more ; and finally, having ruined him, he bought his 
bills of credit and from the remnant of the poor man's fortune 
made a fortune for himself, which was no doubt exaggerated by 
his enemies, but was certainly not acquired by selling sabots at 
Arcis-sur-Aube.i 

Courtois, being rejected by the parliamentary Assemblies, 
gave up politics. That pursuit, indeed, had already given him 
eveiy advantage he could expect to gain from it. Preferring 
not to return to his own country, where his character was known, 
he bought a kind of chateau at Rambluzin, in the department of 
the Meuse, where he settled down comfortably and became the 
seigneur of the village. Those to whom his doors were opened 
noticed a good deal of magnificent furniture in his house — the 
direct descendants, it would appear, of the furniture of the 
ancient royal palaces ; but after the Revolution, when so many 
people had fished in troubled waters, very little attention was 
paid to unedifying surprises of this kind. In any case Courtois 

^ Eugene Wei vert, La saisie des papier s du conventionnel Courtois. 
Archives historiques, artistiques, et litUr aires, 1890. We cannot do better 
than refer our readers, for the whole of this Courtois affair, to the 
remarkable and accurate study in which M. Eugene Welvert supports his 
statements by so many authorities. We have taken this work as our sole 
guide ; but our short abstract is quite insufficient to give all the aspects of 
this interesting story, which should be read in the original version. 

257 s 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

lived peaceably at Rambluzin until January^ 1816^ when the 
Chamber of Deputies passed the so-called law of Amnesty^ of 
which Article 7 condemned to perpetual banishment from the 
kingdom the regicide conventionists who had adhered to the 
Acte Additionnel. Courtois was of their number. But he was 
sixty-two years old, his health was not very good, and he was 
moreover very comfortable on his estate at Rambluzin. Then it 
was that he remembered having carefully secreted a certain 
talisman in a safe place^ lest some crisis of this kind should 
occur. The Queen's Will should win a pardon for him : and he 
promptly addressed to M. Becquey, Councillor of State, a letter 
that was intended to open negotiations. 

Rambluzix, 25^/i Jan. 1816. 
Monsieur, 

My absolute faith in your humanity and loyal principles 
prompts me to address you directly, rather than anyone else, 
with a view to entrusting you with a secret of the first 
importance, of which you will not, I am sure, make any 
unworthy use. 

During the time. Monsieur, that I was a member of the 
Commission' charged with examining the papers of Robes- 
pierre and other conspirators, I thought it my duty to 
abstract from the portfolio that contained them certain docu- 
ments of the greatest interest to the royal family, documents 
that may be regarded as real historical records. It is most 
fortunate that they were saved from the destruction that 
certainly awaited them, so greatly was their publication 
feared ! I append to my letter a list of the original papers and 
other articles. 

Being uncertain whether I shall still be in France when 
your answer reaches my house I have placed this little collec- 
tion of treasures in the hands of a person of known integrity, 
Avho will only give it up in obedience to a direct order from 
myself. 

No one but my wife is in the secret, and the friend who has 
charge of the packet does not even know what it contains; 
he thinks there is nothing in it but some family papers that 
he will be expected to make public after I have gone away, 

I should also tell you that Madame the late Duchesse 

258 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 

de Choiseul, to whom I was fortunate enough to render 
important services during the Revolution, and from whom I 
have in my possession some cherished letters relating to 
myself, was the only person who knew of the existence of 
these papers. Even she, however, did not know of the first 
and most important, for she would certainly have asked me 
for a copy of that, and I should not have known how to 
refuse her. But my wife went so far as to present her with a 
very small lock of the Queen's hair, and a little piece of 
plaited braid that she begged for very earnestly. 

I intended last year to have these sacred objects conveyed 
to His Majesty ; but unfortunately I could not recall where 
I had put them, my many changes of residence having con- 
fused my memory in this respect. It was only a month ago, 
more or less, that I found them again, and firmly determined 
to have them conveyed to the destination that is really theirs 
by right. 

The first document, and the most important of all, begins 
with these words : It is to i/ou, sister (Madame Elizabeth no 
doubt), that I write my last letter ; I have just been sentenced, 
not to a shameful death, for it is only shameful to criminals, 
hut to go and join your brother ; and being, like him, innocent, 
I hope to show the same firmness that he showed in those last 
moments, etc. It ends with these words : My good, loving- 
sister, I trust this letter may reach you I Thiuik of me always : 
I embrace you with my whole heart, and those poor dear 
children too. Mon Dieu, how heart-breaJcing it is to leave 
them for ever ! Farewell, farewell ! I shall think of nothing 
now but my spiritual duties. As I am not a free agent they 
may perhaps bring me a priest, but I here protest that I shall not 
say a word to him and shall treat him as an absolute stranger. 

This letter contains two rather closely- written pages of 
ordinary paper of about quarto size. It may be regarded as a 
kind of last will and testament, corresponding to the will of 
his late Majesty Louis XVI. The writing is in some places 
blurred with tears, which shows how deeply this august 
Princess was moved while writing this masterpiece of pro- 
found feeling, which I shall always congratulate myself on 
having saved. This letter is not signed ; but it is impossible 

259 s 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

to doubt its authenticity when one compares it with others 
that are. Moreover, its genuineness is proved by the fact 
that the signature of A. G. Fouquier-Tinville is written at 
the bottom of it, together with those of the members of the 
Commission : Legot, GuflProy, Massieu, and L, Le Cointre. 

Second letter. — This seems to be addressed to Madame la 
Duchesse d'Angouleme, and contains only six lines as follows : 
" / want to write to you^ my dear child, to tell you that I am 
well ; I am calm, and should he quite at peace if I knew that 
my poor child were free from anxiety. I embrace you, and 
your aunt too, with all my heart. Send me some silk 
stockings, a dimity jacket, an underskirt, and the stocking I am 
knitting^ This letter is unsigned. The signatures of the 
commissioners are at the bottom of it. 

The third letter is addressed to the President of the 
Convention, and asks that the trial may be delayed for three 
days, in order that the counsel for the defence, Tronson and 
Chauveau, may have time to prepare their case, /or, says the 
Queen, / owe it to my children to neglect nothing that is 
necessary for the justification of their mother. This letter is 
signed Marie Antoinette, and the same signatures follow that 
were mentioned above. 

Fourth letter. — From a young lawyer called Marie 
Antoine Martin, Maison Saint-Pierre, 585 Rue des Cordiers, 
asking Fouquier-Tinville to propose him to the Queen as her 
official counsel. 

Fifth letter. — Anonymous ; filled with threats expressed 
in a very unpleasant tone, and addressed to Fouquier. 

Sixth packet. — The Examination of the Queen, after her 
return from Varennes, by the three commissioners of the Con- 
stituent Assembly : Tronchet, d' Andre, and Adrien Duport. 

Seventh packet. — A kid glove that belonged to Mon- 
seigneur the Dauphin. 

Eighth packet. — A little piece of the Queen's hair, about 
as thick as one's finger, wrapped in a quarter of a sheet of 
the Temps newspaper. 

Ninth packet. — A parcel of thread, netting, etc., materials 
for work, no doubt, by the help of which the august prisoner 
beguiled the weary hours of her captivity. 

260 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 

Tenth packet. — A little letter as follows, addressed to the 
Queen and professing to be signed by Danton : " Citoyemie, 
put these words on your door : Unity, indivisibility of the 
Republic, liberty, equality, frateriiity, or death.'''' Signed 
Danton, and also signed like the others. 

This, Monsieur, is all that I was fortunate enough to 
secure. You, if anyone, will understand their value. 

You may rest assured that no copy has ever been made of 
these documents, of which no one knew but the members of 
the Commission, who never learnt what had become of them. 

And the regicide ended by begging'his August Sovereign to grant 
him^ if not a complete pardon in exchange for these relics of the 
Queen, at least a respite of fifteen or eighteen months. By thus 
delaying his exile he hoped to succeed in being forgotten. 

The minister's answer to these advances is very pleasing : " If 
these letters can be had for money, money will be given for them : 
as for the individual, the measure applies to everyone, and no 
exception can be made." 

But before this contemptuous refusal reached him Courtois had 
been bereft of his talisman. The Prefect of the Meuse, having been 
informed that some of Courtois' furniture seemed originally to have 
been Crown property, despatched a Justice of the Peace and 
several gendarmes to his house, to make sure that he did not take 
abroad with him anything valuable belonging to the State. They 
took the opportunity of inspecting his papers, and discovered the 
portfolio containing the Queen's letter and the various relics of 
the prisoners of the Temple, enumerated by Courtois. The whole 
of his little scheme fell to the ground. He was not in the least 
discouraged, however, and tried to assume an air of virtuous 
dignity. Two days later he addressed to M. de Maussion, the 
Prefect of the Meuse, a long letter from which we will only quote 
the first lines, since they will show us all we need to know of the 
ex-conventionist's ignoble mind.^ 

M. le Prefet, I cannot help congratulating myself on the 
fact that the letters of the august Marie Antoinette have 
fallen into hands so honourable as yours, and will be presented 
to His Majesty without delay. 

^ The letter is given in full in M. Eugene Welvert's study. 

261 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

My reason, M. le Prefet, for not confiding in you first of 
all, was that my wife had insisted on my sending the letters 
to M, Becquey, Councillor of State, whom she knew personally. 

On the very day of her death ^ I wrote to that gentleman 
with regard to the articles in my possession, and that I took 
this step proves, at all events, that I made a free and 
independent oifer to the Government to hand over these 
important papers to them. 

Perhaps you would like to know how these precious objects 
fell into my hands. I will do myself the honour of telling 

you. 

After Robespierre's death two Commissions were success- 
ively appointed to examine his papers and those of his 
accomplices. As, owing to party spirit, the first did not win 
the confidence of the Assembly, they appointed a second, of 
which I was a member. It was in the course of drawing up 
a report of this inquiry — a duty that devolved upon me and 
occupied me for five whole months, M. le Prefet — that I 
became possessed of these precious relics, which had originally 
been in the hands of the Revolutionary Tribunal,^ as is proved 
by the signatures of Fouquier, procureur of that infamous 
court, and of the four representatives of Versailles, Legot, 
Massieu, Guffroy, and L. Le Cointre. 

The times were not then sufficiently propitious for these 
things to be put to any use ; and such was the vertigo, so to 
speak, from which certain heads were then suffering, that 
these historical records, which posterity will place in the 
very first rank, were on the point of being destroyed. To 
save them from the flames that threatened them I secretly 
took possession of them, and kept them hidden with the 
greatest care. 

Madame la grande-duchesse {sic) de Choiseul, who honoured 
me with her regard and whose life I more than once saved, 

^ Mme. Coiirtois died on the 25th Jan. 

'■^ This confession on the part of Courtois seems to put it beyond a doubt 
that it was among Robespierre's papers that the Queen's letter was found. 
M. Campardon expresses a different opinion. As for M. E. Welvert, he 
takes up no definite position in the matter, but "leaves to others the 
business of discussing whether it were Robespierre or Courtois who was 
the thief, or the receiver of these stolen goods." 

262 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S WILL 

was the only person who knew of the httle packet of hair, 
from which my wife removed a very small piece as an offering 
to her. She kept this invaluable treasure, as she called it, all 
her life, and begged us to add to it a bit of braid plaited by 
the hands of the late Queen. 

We were very careful not to speak to her of that touching 
letter, that veritable masterpiece of feeling, written at half- 
past four in the morning of the very day that brave and 
charming woman lost her life upon a scaffold that one can 
hardly picture in connection with her ! Otherwise it would 
have been impossible to avoid giving her (the Duchesse de 
Choiseul) a copy of it. No one in the world, M. le Prefet, 
except the members of the Commission, was aware that such 
valuable relics of the late Queen were in existence ; and thus, 
when they reach the hands of the august Sovereign who 
rules over us, they will be, as it were, still unsullied. 

And sOj after all these vicissitudes^ at the end of twenty-two 
years, after lying in the portfolios of the Tribunal and the mat- 
tress of Robespierre and the library of Courtois, the Queen's last 
letter reached — not its destination^ for the woman for whom it 
was written had long been dead — but at least the hands of Marie 
Antoinette's daughter, who fainted away^ it is said, when she 
received this paper, yellow with age and still blotted with her 
mother's last tears. The King issued an order that on the l6th 
October of each year it should be read aloud in the pulpit of 
every church in France.^ Millions of facsimiles of it were 
printed. As for the original, it was deposited among the State 
Archives, where it lies in a special case beside the will of 
Louis XVI. 

^ Under the Restoration the fa9ade of the Temple was draped with 
black on the 21st of January, and the top storey was surmounted by a 
cenotaph decorated with the arms of France and surrounded by lighted 
tapers. Upon a black book were written the words : " Son of Saint 
Louis, ascend to Heaven." — La Quotidienne for the year 1821. 



26S 



THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE 

If the historians of Marie Antoinette ai-e to be believed it was 
not until a fortnight after the Queen's death that her remains 
were buried.i 

What became of her body during these fifteen days ? No 
doubt it was thrown down upon the grass in some corner of the 
Cemetery of the Madeleine^ to await further orders that never 
came ; and so it was forgotten. At last the grave-digger Joly 
took it upon himself to dig a hole, to place in it the remains of 
the victim, and to submit this bill for funeral expenses to the 
authorities for their approval — 

The Widow Capet, for the coffin 6 livres. 

For the grave and srave-diffffers 15-35.2 



'&&^ 



And this is the only document we have relating to the Queen's 
burial. 

The first question we have to ask is this : where was the 
Cemetery of the Madeleine ? 

Louis Lazare, a Parisian journalist, has made an attempt to 
elucidate the mystery. According to him ^ the cemetery " ad- 
joined the old parish church of the Madeleine, and was entered 
from the Rue de la Ville I'Eveque." This is obviously a mis- 
take ; for it is a well-known fact that the Expiatory Chapel was 
built on the very site of the trench, and that the altar of the 
crypt stands on the precise spot where the bones of the King 
and Queen were discovered in 1815. Now this spot, as we all 
know, is a long way from the Rue de la Ville I'Eveque. 

^ The 11th Brumaire, year II., or Nov. 1st, 1793. See Histoire de Marie- 
Antoinette, by Maxime de la Rooheterie. 

^ Memorandum in the possession of M. Fosse d'Arcosse, quoted by E. 
and J. de Goncourt, Hidolre de Marie- Antoinette. 

^ Bihliothcque municipale. 

264 



A. Actual position of the crypt of the Expiatory Chapel, on the precise 
spot where the bodies of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were 
buried. 

B. The spot, according to Desclozeaux, where Charlotte Corday was 
buried. 

0. Crave of the 133 victims of the accident that took place on the 
6th June, 1770, in the Place Louis XV. 

D. Grave of the Due d'Orleans, according to Desclozeaux. 

E. Grave of the four priests and 
500 Swiss killed on the 10th 
August, according to Des- 
clozeaux. 

F. Common trench where the 
condemned were buried 
until the middle of 
December, 1793. 

G. Grave of 500 Swiss 
Guards killed on the 
10th August, ac- 
cording to Des- 
clozeaux. 




THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE. 

Bird's-eye view, based on original documents. 

Drawn by M. Joseph Beuzon. 

265 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

We pursued quite a different method. We spread out before 
us Verniquet's great plan, showing the topography of Paris at 
the time of the Revolution : we then sketched from it an outline 
of the whole neighbourhood, with the old church of the 
Madeleine, the Benedictine Convent, and the huge gardens that 
stretched as far as the Rue de la Pepiniere and were bisected by 
the street called, from the bridge under which it passed, the 
Rue de 1' Arcade. We then called in the help of a map of 
modern Paris, and placing the latter on Verniquet's plan found 
the exact spot that was covered by the Expiatory Chapel : and 
in this way we acquired the absolute certainty that the Cemetery 
of the Madeleine, in 1793, was a piece of ground of a somewhat 
irregular shape, enclosed by a wall, opening into the Rue d'Anjou, 
and forming the northern boundary of the immense gardens of 
the nuns of La Ville TEveque.^ 

One fact which proves beyond a doubt that the enclosure of 
the cemetery had no connection with the Convent gardens is that 
the first burials in this place were those of the hundred and 
thirty-three victims of the accident that occurred on the 6th 
June, 1770, in the Place Louis XV, on the occasion of the fetes 
given in honour of the Dauphin's marriage. At that time the 
property of religious communities was respected, and a trench 
would not have been dug in the middle of a garden belonging to 
one of the richest convents in Paris. Moreover, at the time of 
the Restoration a plan was published of the cemetery, which had 
then become M. Desclozeaux' garden ; and although the general 
arrangement had slightly changed since M. Verniquet depicted it 
in 1792, one can nevertheless recognise the shape of the plot of 
ground and the close proximity of the Rue d'Anjou, so that 
there is no doubt whatever as to the situation of the enclosure. 
Finally, M. Desclozeaux, whom we have just mentioned, was 
living in 1815 at No. 48 Rue d'Anjou, and Jacoubet's plan (1835) 
places No. 48 exactly on the extension of the Rue des Mathurins 
— which was cut short then, as in 1792, by the Rue de 1' Arcade 
— that is to say, quite close to the plot of ground under 
consideration. 

Dull as this demonstration may be it is not without importance, 
for such chroniclers as have had occasion to speak of the 
Cemetery of the Madeleine have prudently abstained, for want 
of accurate documentary evidence, from making any definite 

^ See the rough plan on page 265. 

266 



THE CEMETERY OF THE MADELEINE 

statement. The common trenches of the Terror fell so quickly 
and so thoroughly into oblivion that^ when Kotzebue was 
travelling in France during the period of the Consulate^, he could 
find no one to show him the resting-place of Louis XVI. and 
Marie Antoinette. 

In the meantime they had been followed to the little enclosure 
we have just described by many a victim of the scaffold in the 
Place de la Revolution ; for the guillotine never rested, and 
nearly every day the cart brought to the Rue d'Anjou one or 
more baskets full of headless corpses. The doors opened, the 
cart drove into the enclosure, and there, hidden by the walls, 
the grave-diggers cari'ied on their horrible work, which was not 
so much seen as imagined by the people of the neighbourhood. 
But indeed this quarter of the town was very sparsely populated 
till the early years of the new century. 

As soon as the Terror was over the owner of the house 
adjoining the cemetery, Pierre Louis Olivier Desclozeaux, 
formei'ly a lawyer, acquired possession of the burial-ground. 
He restored and raised the walls, corrected the irregularities 
of the enclosure, closed up the door into the Rue d'Anjou, and 
made a new one into his private garden, which had once formed 
pai't of the grounds belonging to the nuns of the Ville I'Eveque. 
Then, aided by tradition alone, for there were no authoritative 
documents, he assigned graves in certain spots to the famous 
dead who were buried there, and marked the places with shrubs 
and trees and crosses. On the spot where he believed the 
remains of the King and Queen to have been laid he planted 
two weeping-willows and a hedge of hornbeam. 

At the time of the Bourbons' return he intimated to Louis 
XVIII. that he was prepared to place his piece of ground at the 
disposal of the royal family ; and he himself gave the King the 
names of those who might be able to furnish accurate informa- 
tion with regard to the graves. The result of this was the 
investigation of which we shall presently read the official account. 

M. Desclozeaux, however, allowed his enthusiasm to run away 
with him.^ In a pamphlet entitled A List of Persons sentenced 

1 M. Desclozeaux is buried in the Cemetery of Pfere-Lachaise. The 
following lines are on his tombstone. 

De la cendre des rois pieux d4positaire, 
Le del daigna Mnir ses soins religieux , 
II a revu Louis au trSne Mriditaire 
Et, comme Simeon, il a ferm4 les yeux. 

267 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

to Death by the Revolutionary Tribunal between August 9,Qth, 1792, 
and June 13th, 1794;, and buried in the Plot of Ground formerly the 
Cemetery of the Madeleine, he gives a record that includes one 
thousand three hundred and forty-six names, and extends, as the 
title indicates, to the 13th June, 1794. This is a mistake ; for we 
can only accept this date as correct by altogether ignoring the 
existence of the Cemetery of Les Errancis in the Pare Monceau, 
where the victims of the guillotine were buried between the 
25th March and 13th June 1794. But this mistake on M. 
Desclozeaux' part can be easily explained. The bodies of the 
dead were ostensibly taken to the Cemetery of the Madeleine, 
and it was only several days after their execution that they were 
transferred by night to the Cemetery of Monceau. M. Des- 
clozeaux iQust have noted their going in, without taking their 
coming out into consideration, and this was why he credited his 
cemetery with containing the remains of everyone who was 
executed in the Place de la Revolution. 

I think that on this particular point we may have perfect 
confidence in Michelet, though as a rule he is careless in his 
choice of authorities, and indeed i-arely quotes the sources of his 
information at all. But his chapter on the cemeteries of the 
Terror was founded on a Avork of considerable importance, which 
was undertaken especially on his account by M. Hardy, an official 
in the muniment-room of the Prefecture of Police. 

Briefly, the Cemetery of the Madeleine was used for burials 
till the 24th March, 1794. Hebert and Clootz were the last 
victims of the guillotine to be interred there. 

These details will not be found useless in assisting the reader 
to form an opinion, in full knowledge of the facts, with regard 
to the following collection of original documents. 



268 



THE EXHUMATION OF THE REMAINS 
OF KING LOUIS XVI. AND QUEEN 
MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Legal Statement hy the High Chancellor of France, corwerning 
all the circumstances preceding, accompanying, and following 
the burial of King Louis XVL and Queen Marie Antoinette. 

On the 12th May, 1814, before us, Henri d'Ambray, 
Chancellor of France, personally charged by His Majesty to 
make a written statement of all the circumstances that pre- 
ceded, accompanied, and followed the burial of King Louis 
XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette. 

Appeared the witnesses hereinafter named, whom I 
summoned in accordance with the information given me by 
His Majesty himself, who furnished me with their names. 

1st. The Sieur Sylvain Renard, formerly senior curate of 
the Madeleine, residing at No. 12 Rue Caumartin, who, after 
taking the oath to speak the truth, deposed independently of 
the report he sent to me on the 10th inst., as follows : 

« On the 20th January, 1793, the Executive Authorities 
commanded M. Picavez, cure of the parish of the Madeleine, 
to carry out their orders with regard to the funeral of His 
Majesty Louis XVI. 

" M. Picavez, feeling that he had not the courage to fill so 
painful and distressing an office, professed to be ill, and de- 
puted me, as his senior curate, to replace him, and to be 
careful on my own responsibility that the orders issued by 
the Executive Power were strictly carried out. My first 
answer was a positive refusal, based on the ground that 

S69 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

perhaps no one had loved Louis XVI. more than I ; but on 
M. Picavez very justly pointing out to me that this double 
refusal might have disagreeable and, indeed, incalculable 
results for both of us, I accepted this painful mission. 

" Consequently, on the following day, the 21st, after having 
assured myself on the evening before that the orders issued by 
the Executive Power had been faithfully carried out with 
regard to the quantity of quicklime and the depth of the 
trench — which, as far as I can remember, was to be ten feet — 
I waited at the door of the church,^ accompanied by the cross 
and by the late M. TAbbe Damoreau, junior curate, for the 
body of His Majesty to be brought to us. In answer to my 
questions, the commissioners of the department and of the 
Commune told me that the orders they had received did not 
permit them to lose sight for a single moment of the remains 
of Louis Capet. The body, therefore, did not enter the 
church. 

" We were obliged, then, M. Damoreau and I, to follow 
them, and accompany them to the cemetery in the Rue 
d'Anjou-Saint-Honore. 

" For the short distance we had to walk we were escorted 
by a tumultuous horde of people, a regiment of dragoons, 
and some unmounted gendarmes, whose band played Repub- 
lican airs. 

" When we reached the cemetery the body was handed 
over to us, and I insisted on absolute silence. His Majesty 
was dressed in a waistcoat of white pique, with breeches of 
grey silk, and stockings to match. His face was not dis- 
coloured, his features were unaltered, and his open eyes 
seemed to be still reproaching his judges for the unspeakable 
crime of which they had just been guilty. 

" We then recited the prayers ordinarily used for the 
burial of the dead, and I can truthfully say that this huge 
crowd, which a moment before had been rending the air with 
its wild clamour, listened to the prayers for the repose of His 
Majesty's soul in a most religious silence. 

^ The allusion is to the old Church of the Madeleine, which was pulled 
down at the beginning of the century and was situated at the corner of the 
Rue de la Ville I'EvSque and the Rue de 1' Arcade. 

270 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

" Before the King's body was lowered into the grave, where 
it lay uncovered in the coffin with the head between the legs, 
a bed of quicklime was thrown into the trench, which was ten 
feet away from the wall in accordance with the orders of the 
Executive Power. The body was then covered with another 
bed of quicklime and then with a bed of earth, and these, as 
they were placed one on top of the other, were vigorously 
beaten down several times. 

" After this very painful ceremony we silently withdrew, 
and as far as I can remember a formal report of the affair 
was drawn up by the JiLge de Paioc, and signed by two 
members of the department and two of the Commune. 
When I returned to the church I also made out a burial 
certificate, but only in an ordinary register, which was taken 
away by the members of the Revolutionary Committee at the 
time of the closing of the churches. 

" I certify on my word of honour that this declaration that 
I have been requested to make contains nothing but the 
most accurate truth, and I am prepared, if necessary, to 
repeat it under oath. 

" In witness whereof I have signed it in Paris on the 10th 
May, 1814. 

Renard. 
Senior Curate of the Madeleine, 
42 Rue Caumartin." 

2ndly. The Sieur Antoine Lamaignere, Juge de Paix of 
the 1st Ward of Paris, residing at No. 8 Rue de la Concorde, 
after taking the oath to speak the truth, told us that he was 
not present at the King's burial, but arrived on the spot at 
the moment when His Majesty's body had just been covered 
with a thick bed of quicklime, and that the place which is 
now surrounded with hornbeam trees, in the garden of the 
Sieur Desclozeaux, is the spot where the King was buried, 
and signed after reading the above. 

Lamaigneue. 

Srdly. The Sieur Richard Eve-Vaudremont, registrar of 
the Jicge de Paioo of the 1st Ward, whom he accompanied on 

271 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

the occasion of his visit to the Cemetery of the Madeleine at 
the moment when the King's body was being covered with 
quicklime, is in a position to attest, as he does hereby attest, 
that His Majesty's body had been laid in the spot that is now 
marked by two weeping- willows, in the garden of Desclozeaux ; 
and after reading the above, signed in our presence. 

Eve-Vaudremont. 

4thly. The Sieur Emmanuel Daujou, formerly a lawyer, 
residing at No. 48 Rue d'Anjou, who, after taking the oath to 
speak the truth, told us that he too had witnessed the 
burial of King Louis XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette ; 
that he saw them lowered into their graves in open coffins ; 
that they were covered with lime and earth, well beaten 
down ; that the two heads were placed between the legs of 
the two royal victims ; that he could not possibly forget a 
place that had become so precious and that he regarded as 
sacred; that he remembered his father-in-law, M. Desclo- 
zeaux, buying the Cemetery of the Madeleine, the walls of 
which were in a state of disrepair ; that he had them restored 
and heightened for the sake of greater safety ; that owing to 
his care the piece of ground in which lay the bodies of their 
Majesties was surrounded by hornbeam trees ; that he also 
planted some shrubs and two weeping-willows ; and signed 
after reading the above. 

Signed : Daujou. 

5thly. Alexandre, Baron de Baye, Brigadier- General in the 
King's army, who, after taking the oath to speak the truth, 
told us that he saw the covered tumbril pass by on its way to 
the Cemetery of the Rue d'Anjou with the mortal remains of 
King Louis XVI. ; that he had not had the courage to follow 
the funeral procession, but knew through eye-witnesses that 
the body of His Majesty had been buried at the spot that 
had subsequently been adorned and cared for by Desclozeaux ; 
that he knew Desclozeaux had even consistently refused to 
sell this piece of land, or even exchange it for a mansion in 
Paris ; and after reading the above, signed. 

Baron de Baye. 
272 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

Executed and sealed in Paris, at the Chancellerie, May 
22nd, 1814. 

Signed: D'Ambuay, Grand Chancellor. 

Certified correct by us, assistant-secretary in the office of 
the Lord High Chancellor, and member of the Legion of 
Honour. Le Picard.^ 

On the 18th May, 1814, we, the undersigned. Lord High 
Chancellor of France, proceeded at nine o''clock in the morn- 
ing to the residence of the Sieur Desclozeaux, No. 48 Rue 
d'Anjou, accompanied by M. le Comte de Blacas. We found 
the said Desclozeaux at home, and with him his son-in-law 
the Sieur Daujou ; and they took us into the old Cemetery 
of the Madeleine. They pointed out to us the spot where the 
body of His Majesty Louis XVI. had been buried, and a few 
steps beyond it the place where the body of Her Majesty the 
Queen had been laid nine months later. 

The same place was identified by the Sieur Renard, formerly 
senior curate of the parish of the Madeleine, who had been 
present at the King's funeral, and had been summoned by us 
in order that he might point out the spot where His Majesty's 
body had been laid. 

This spot, and that in which Her Majesty the Queen had 
been buried, were according to these witnesses identical with 
the places previously indicated to us in the depositions on 
oath received by us on the 12th May, 1814, The burial- 
places of the King and Queen are marked by an enclosure, 
near which are planted two weeping-willows and some shrubs. 

We carefully marked out upon the ground the places in 
question, which were only a short distance from each other ; 
and as a record of what we had done we drew up and signed 
this document. 

Executed in Paris at the Office of the Lord High Chan- 
cellor on the above date at mid-day. 

Desclozeaux, Daujou, Renaed, the Marquis d'Ambray, 
Lord High Chancellor of France.^ 

^ Archives de Vancienne chambre des pairs. Documents quoted by the 
Abb6 Savornin, chaplain of the Expiatory Chapel. 

'" Among the Archives of the Crown. Document quoted by the Abb6 
Savornin. 

273 T 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

On the 18th January, 1815, we, the undersigned Henri 
d'Ambray, Chancellor of France, Commander of the Orders 
of the King,^ accompanied by M. le Comte de Blacas, 
Secretary of State ; M. le Bailly de Crussol, Peer of France ; 
Mon seigneur de la Fare, Bishop of Nancy, Head Chaplain to 
Her Royal Highness the Duchesse d'Angouleme ; and finally 
Dr. Distel, Surgeon to His Majesty, — commissioners 
appointed with us by the King to search for the precious 
remains of Their Majesties Louis XVI. and Queen Marie 
Antoinette his august consort, — repaired at eight o'clock in 
the morning to the old Cemetery of the Madeleine at No. 48 
Rue d"'Anjou-Saint-Honore. 

Having entered the adjoining house, to which this disused 
cemetery now serves as a garden, the said house being occupied 
by the Sieur Desclozeaux, who formerly bought the said 
cemetery in order that he might himself watch and safeguard 
the precious remains that lay there, we found the said Sieur 
Desclozeaux with the Sieur Daujou his son-in-law, several 
members of his family, and the Abbe Renard, formerly senior 
curate of the Madeleine. They took us into the old cemetery 
and again pointed out to us the spot where the Sieur Daujou 
had declared he knew and could attest that the bodies of 
Their Majesties had been laid, as recorded in the report of 
our investigations on the 12th of last May. 

Having then once more inspected the side of the garden 
where oiu" prescribed search was to be made, we thought it 
best to begin by looking for the body of the Queen, in order 
to be more sure of discovering that of His Majesty King 
Louis XVI., which we had reason to believe was nearer to the 
wall of the cemetery, on the side towards the Rue d'Anjou- 
Saint-Honore. 

After watching the workmen — among whom was a witness 
of the Queen's burial — make an excavation measuring ten 
feet long by eight wide and eight deep, we came upon a bed 
of lime of about ten or eleven inches deep, and we had this 
removed with the greatest care. Beneath it we found the very 
distinct impression of a coffin five and a half feet in length. 

1 Namely the Orders of St. Michael and of the Holy Ghost. (Trans- 
lator's note. ) 

274 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

Along the sides of this impression traced in the middle of 
the bed of lime were several undamaged pieces of plank ; and 
inside this coffin we found a great number of bones, obviously 
a woman''s, which we carefully gathered up. There were a few 
missing, however, which no doubt had already been reduced 
to dust ; but we found the whole head, displaced and lying 
near the other extremity of the body, and showing incontest- 
ably by its position than it had been severed from the trunk. 
We also found some remains of a woman''s garments, notably 
two elastic garters in a fair state of preservation, which we 
removed, together with two pieces of the coffin, to be con- 
veyed to His Majesty. 

We sent for a box, and in it we reverently placed the 
remains, to await the leaden coffin we had ordered. 

We also put on one side and fastened up in another box the 
earth and lime found mingled with the bones, which was 
to be placed in the same coffin. 

Having completed this operation we made the men cover 
up with strong planks the place where the impression of Her 
Majesty the Queen's coffin was found ; and we then pro- 
ceeded to search for the remains of His Majesty King Louis 
XVI. 

In this case also we followed the directions that had been 
given us, and made the workmen dig a large hole, measuring 
fifteen feet long by twelve deep, between the place where the 
Queen's body had been found and the cemetery wall near the 
Rue d'Anjou. We found nothing, however, to show the 
presence of a bed of lime similar to that which marked the 
Queen's grave, and we saw we should be obliged to dig a little 
deeper in the same direction ; but the approach of night 
determined us to suspend our work and postpone it till the 
morrow. 

We therefore left the cemetery with the workmen we had 
brought with us ; we carefully locked the door and took 
away the key ; and we carried the two boxes mentioned above 
into the salon of the Sieur Desclozeaux, after sealing them 
with a seal bearing the arms of France. The said boxes were 
covered with a pall and surrounded with tapers, and several 
of His Majesty's chaplains came to recite the prayers of the 

275 T 2 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

Church beside these precious remains during the night. The 
General Superintendent of Police, whom we summoned, was 
desired to post guards at the door and round the cemetery, 
and we arranged to continue our operations on the following 
day, between eight and nine in the morning. We then drew 
up the above report of what we had done, and signed it, 
together with the Sieur Desclozeaux, owner of the ground, 
and the Sieur Daujou, his son-in-law. 

Executed and sealed in Paris, on the above date : 

Renard, formerly senior curate of the Madeleine ; 

Bailly de Crussol ; L. de la Fare, Bishop of 

Nancy; Blacas d'Aulps ; Desclozeaux ; Daujou ; 

le docteur Distel ; d'Ambray, Lord High 

Chancellor of France. 

On the 19th January, 1815, we again proceeded to the 
cemetery mentioned above, which we entered at half-past 
eight in the morning with the workmen we had ordered to be 
there, to go on with the half-finished work. 

The workmen, in our presence, dug a trench nine feet in 
depth, a short distance above the grave of Her Majesty the 
Queen, and nearer to the wall on the side towards the Rue 
d'Anjou. At that depth we came upon some earth mixed 
with a great deal of lime and some small fragments of board, 
which seemed suggestive of a wooden coffin. We continued 
our search with even more caution than before, but instead of 
finding a bed of pure lime such as surrounded the coffin of the 
Queen we saw that the earth and lime had obviously been 
mixed purposely,^ but in such a way that the lime very much 
preponderated in the mixture, though it had not the same 
solidity as the lime we had found in the course of our work 
on the previous day. 

It was in the midst of this lime and earth that we found 
the bones of a man, of which several were altogether decayed 
and on the^point J of falling into dust. The head was covered 
with lime and lay among the bones of the legs, a fact which 

^ This circumstance gave rise to the idea that the grave had been 
searched at some previousitime. 

276 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

seemed all the more significant to us because this position was 
mentioned as that of Louis XVI. ''s head in the inquiry made 
on the 12th May, 1814. 

We made a very careful search to see if there were no 
traces of garments left, but we could find none, no doubt 
because, since there was much more lime than in the other 
case, it had produced a greater effect. We collected all the 
remains we could find in this confused mass of earth, lime and 
bones, and we wrapped them in a large sheet that we had 
prepared for the purpose, together with several pieces of un- 
broken lime that were adhering to the bones. 

Although the spot where the remains had been discovered 
was undoubtedly the place where several eye-witnesses of the 
King's burial had declared His Majesty's body to have been 
laid, and the position of the head removed any possible 
uncertainty as to the success of our search, yet we did not 
omit to make another excavation twenty-five feet away, to a 
depth of twelve feet, to see if there were no complete bed of 
lime that would mark some other spot as being the King's 
grave. But this additional test did but convince us still more 
absolutely that we Avere in possession of the precious remains 
of Louis XVI. 

We reverently enclosed them in a case and sealed them 
with the arms of France. We then removed the case to the 
room in which the remains of Her Majesty the Queen were 
already lying, in order that the clergy already gathered there 
might continue offering up the prayers of the Churcji beside 
the two bodies until the time, which would be fixed by the 
King, when they should be placed in leaden coffins and re- 
moved to the royal church of Saint-Denis. 

Concerning all of which we have drawn up and written the 
above report, which has been signed by the same commission- 
ers and witnesses as were present at our meeting of yesterday, 
and in addition to these by M. le due de Duras, peer of 
France and first gentleman-of-the-bedchamber to His Majesty, 
and by M. le marquis de Breze, Grand Master of the Cere- 
monies of France, both of whom were present during the 
investigations of to-day ; and also by M. I'abbe d'Astros, vicar- 
general of Paris and one of the administrators of the diocese, 

m 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

(the See being vacant), Avho was with us at the time of the 
exhumation.^ 

Executed and sealed at No. 48 Rue d'Anjou, at the hour 
and on the date mentioned above. 

Bailly de Crussol ; L. de la Fare, Bishop of 
Nancy ; Blacas d'Aulps ; Dastros, vicar- 
general; Marquis de Bbeze ; Due de Duras; 
Dr. Distei- ; Renard ; Desclozeaux ; Daujou ; 
d"'Ambray, Lord High Chancellor of France. 

On the 20th January, 1815, at two o'clock in- the afternoon, 
we the undersigned, in accordance with the King's orders, 
repaired to the house of the Sieur Desclozeaux, No. 48 Rue 
d'Anjou, and found there on our arrival the same commission- 
ers who had taken part in our previous operations, together 
with such persons as were entitled by their offices or by the 
King's commands to be present while the precious remains of 
Their Majesties Louis XVI. and Queen Marie Antoinette were 
removed from the sealed cases in which they lay, in a room of 
the said house, and placed in lead coffins. To wit the follow- 
ing commissioners : M. le Comte de Blacas, Grand Master of 
the King's Wardrobe ; Monseigneur de la Fare, Bishop of 
Nancy ; M. le Bailly de Crussol, Peer of France ; and in 
addition to these the Due de Duras, Peer of France ; Ch. de 
Crecy ; de Noailles, Prince de Poix, Peer of France and Cap- 

1 An eye-witness of this ceremony has recorded various incidents that 
would have been unsuitable in the official documents. 

" The Cemetery of the Madeleine had been unused since 1720 and was 
only re-opened in 1793. . . . After Robespierre's death it was again 
deserted, and being sold as national property was acquired by M. 
Desclozeaux, whose house adjoined this melancholy plot of ground. He 
had planted sweet-scented and allegorical trees in it, and had levelled the 
ground and covered it with green turf mingled with flowers ; and in the 
northern corner a little stone cross marked the burial-place of the good King. 
Louis XVI. 's body was found ten feet below the surface ; that of the 
Queen was not buried so deeply. A very thick bed of petrified lime pro- 
tected the Queen's coffin, and the spectators were amazed to see that 
after twenty years there were still some remains of her body. M. de 
Barentin, who was eighty years of age, clasped his hands and prayed, 
kneeling on a little hill. When the grave-diggers produced one of the 
Queen's stockings, her elastic garters, and some of her hair, the Prince de 
Poix burst into tears, uttered a cry, and fell fainting to the ground. I 
was at a window of the neighbouring hoi^se, and was myself a witness of 
all I have just described." 

278 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

tain of the King's Guards, who was in the service of His 
Majesty Louis XVI. until the 10th August, 1792, inclusive. 

In the presence of which persons we examined the boxes and 
saw that the seals were intact, and having broken these we 
proceeded to transfer the precious remains from the said boxes 
to the leaden coffins prepared for the purpose. 

The mortal remains of His Majesty Louis XVI. were placed 
in a large coffin with several pieces of lime, which had been 
found with pieces of board from a wooden coffin adhering to 
them ; the leaden coffin was then at once covered up and 
soldered by the plumbers we had ordered to be there, and on 
the lid was fixed a plate of silver-gilt bearing this inscription : 
" Here lies the body of the very high, very puissant and very 
excellent prince, Louis XVI. of the name, by the grace of God 
King of France and Navarre.*" 

The same operation was carried out, in the presence of the 
same persons, with regard to the remains of Her Majesty 
Queen Marie Antoinette, and the coffin containing them was 
closed in the same way and soldered by the same plumbers, 
and thus inscribed : 

" Here lies the body of the very high, very puissant and 
very excellent Princess Marie- Antoinette-Josephine-Jeanne 
de Lorraine, archduchess of Austria, wife of the very high, 
very puissant and very excellent prince Louis XVI., by the 
grace of God King of France and Navarre." 

The two coffins were then covered with the pall, and left to 
await the time appointed by the King for the removal to 
Saint-Denis of the two bodies that had been so providentially 
recovered. 

Concerning all of which we have drawn up and sealed 
this report, which has been signed, with us, by the above- 
named persons, together with Desclozeaux, owner of the 
house, and Daujou his son-in-law, in Paris, on the above date. 
Desclozeaux; Daujou; Renard; Distel, Surgeon 
to His Majesty ; de Noailles, Prince de Poix ; 
L. de la Fare, Bishop of Nancy ; Bailly 
DE Crussol ; Due de Duras ; Ch. de Crecy ; 
DE Blacas d'Aulps ; Marquis d'Ambray, 
Chancellor of France. 
280 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

We, Louis, etc., have ordained and do hereby ordain as 
follows : A monument shall be erected to the memory of 
King Louis XVI, and Queen Marie Antoinette, of which the 
first stone shall be laid on the 21st January, 1815, 

Signed : Louis. 

Foundation of the Royal Chapter of Saint-Denis. 

We, Louis, etc., have ordained and do hereby ordain that 
a royal Chapter shall be established in perpetuity at Saint- 
Denis, for aged or infirm bishops and priests who, after a long 
ministry, shall be in need of rest from their holy labours. 
They will replace the religious order that formerly guarded 
the dust of the Kings. These venerable men, in virtue of 
their age, their vouchers of respectability, and their labours, 
will become the natural guardians of that asylum of the dead, 
and of the precious remains of Louis XVI. and Queen Marie 
Antoinette, which are shortly to be transferred thither, etc. 
Given at the Palace of the Tuileries, on the \^th Jan. 1815. 

Signed: Louis, 

Reward granted to M. Desclozeaux. 

The King, desiring to reward the pious devotion of M. 
Desclozeaux, to whom France owes the preservation of the 
mortal remains of Their Majesties Louis XVI. and the Queen 
his august consort, — since by purchasing the ground in which 
their bodies were buried he secured the safety of these precious 
relics, — has granted him the order of Saint Michael and a 
pension reversible to his two daughters.^ 

Paris, 20th Jan, 1815. 

Blacas d'Aulps, 
Minister of the King's Household. 

On the following day, January 21st, 1815, the twenty-second 
anniversary of the King's execution, the remains of Louis XVI. 

^ Madame la duchesse d'Angouleme had already presented M. Desclozeaux 
with the portraits of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, as a mark of her 
gratitude. 

281 



LAST DAYS OF MARIE ANTOINETTE 

and Marie Antoinette were solemnly conveyed from the house of 
M. Desclozeaux to the Church of Saint-Denis. 

By seven o'clock in the morning all the regiments of the 
garrison of Paris were armed and on their way^ with crape upon 
their sleeves, to line the public road between the Rue d'Anjou 
and the Church of Saint-Denis. At half-past nine the coffins 
were carried from: the chapelle ardente to the hearse by twelve 
men belonging to the Scottish company of the Guards of La 
Manche ; and the procession started on its way. 

By a coincidence that was perhaps designed the road from the 
Madeleine to the Porte Saint-Denis, which Louis XVL's body 




PLAN OF THE VAULT OF THE BOIJRBONS. 



followed that day, was the same road by which the condemned 
King had travelled in the opposite direction, on the same day 
and at precisely the same hour, two and twenty years before. 
A similar display of troops lined the boulevard on both sides, 
and, as in 1 793, a strong detachment of gendarynerie led the way, 
while the grenadiers and light infantry of the line marched in 
close column with their arms '^'at the carry," preceded by their 
colonels and bands. The procession proper consisted of three 
eight-horsed can-iages belonging to the Court, eight eight- 
horsed royal carriages, the carriages of the Due d'Angouleme 
and the Due de Berry, four mounted heralds, the Grand-Master, 
Master, and Assistant Masters of the Ceremonies, also mounted, 
the hearse, the hundred Swiss Guards, and the Body Guard. 
Guns were fired at intervals of a minute, the drums and other 

282 




B W 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

instruments were veiled in black serge, the flags and standards 
had each a mourning badge of crape. 

At mid-day the funeral service began at Saint-Denis. The 
whole Court and all the governmental bodies were present ; but 
the King did not appear, and none of the contemporary accounts 
make any mention of Madame la duchesse d'Angouleme as 
taking part in the proceedings. After the Dies tree had been 
chanted to muted instruments Monseigneur de Boulogne, Bishop 
of Troyes^ gave a long funeral oration ; then the Absolution was 
pronounced and the coffins taken down into the vaults, whither 
Monseigneur the Due d'Angouleme and Monseigneur the Due 
de Ben-y accompanied them. As the door of the crypt opened 
to receive the remains of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette the 
roar of many guns was heard, and at the same moment all the 
bells began to ring. At two o'clock the ceremony was 
finished. 

This vault where the remains of the King and Queen were 
laid that day in the very centre of the crypt, under the choir of 
the basilica, had been set apart for more than two centuries as 
the burial-place of the House of Bourbon. In 1793 the Conven- 
tion, prompted by a report by Barere, had decreed the removal 
of all the coffins at Saint-Denis, and on the 6th_, 7th and 8th 
August the first steps were taken towards carrying out this 
order. On these days, however, none but the tombs of the 
Capetians were touched. 

On Saturday, October ISth, the vault of the Bourbons was 
opened and the body of Henri IV. removed. It appears that the 
workmen did nothing on the Sunday ; but on Monday the 14th 
they opened the coffins of Louis XIII., Louis XIV., Anne of 
Austria, Marie de Medicis, Marie Therese, and the Grand 
Dauphin. On the 15th October twenty-one more bodies were 
thrown into the common trench, and again on Wednesday the 
l6th, while Marie Antoinette was on her way to the scaffold, 
twenty-one coffins were opened, including those of Louis XV. 
and Louis Joseph Xavier, first Dauphin, the son of the Queen 
who died in that same hour. And by the 25th October the 
basilica had been robbed of all its tombs, or at least of all that 
could be found. 

We have just seen how the bodies of Louis XVI. and Marie 
Antoinette were laid in the empty, desolate vault. During the 
period of the Restoration they were followed thither b}^ the remains 

283 



LAST DAYS OF MAHIE ANTOmETTE 

of Louis XV. 's daughters^ Mesdames Adelaide and Victoire, who 
died abroad and were laid in the vault of Saint-Denis in 1817. 
Then^ in 1818^ came the Prince de Conde ; in 1820 the Due de 
Berry and the two little princesses^ his daughters, who died when 
they were only a few days old ; in 1 824, Louis XVIIL ; and in 1830 
the Prince de Conde, who died at Saint-Leu. The coffins of 
King Louis VIL, of Loixise de Lori-aine, Henri III.'s wife, and 
of two princes of the House of Conde, which had escaped the 
profanations of 1 793, were also placed here. Such was the vault 
of the Bourbons at the time of the Revolution of 1830. 

It was not opened again till 1859- In that year Napoleon III. 
ordered a huge crypt to be prepared, to receive the remains of 
members of the imperial family ; and indeed he seems to have 
thought of placing the body of Napoleon I. here. This under- 
taking reduced the size of the vault of the Bourbons by more 
than a half. M. le Comte de Chambord, on being consulted, 
expressed a desire that this vault where his ancestors lay should 
be closed and made inaccessible, in consequence of which the 
door was walled up. This state of things remained unaltered 
until a few years ago, when fresh repairs made it necessary 
for the architects to enter this chapel of the dead, where 
damp, mildew, and the ravages of time were freely working 
their will. 

But before the recent repairs this crypt, one must admit, 
presented as moving a sight as could possibly be seen. It was 
visible only through a grated skylight : its dismal walls showed 
dimly in the faint glow of a lamp, lit from without ; and through 
the shadows loomed the vague outlines of the coffins, with their 
tattered velvet palls all ruined by the damp. From this desolate 
spot there rose a breath of fetid air. 

The vault has now been cleaned, and though the public is 
never admitted it is at least possible to open the dooi-, so that 
the place can be kept decently cared for. No drawing of it, we 
believe, has been published until now : the sketch we reproduce 
was taken on the spot by M. Joseph Beuzon, on the occasion 
of M. Maurice Pascal's visit to the royal burial-place on 
the 24th March, 1896.^ The plan that accompanies the print 

^ " The Government," wi'ote M. Maurice Pascal to us at the time, " has 
provided, at its own expense, some new cotfins of a very simple kind, into 
which liave been slipped tlie old cofSns that are so greatly damaged by 
time. Monseigneur le due d'Aumale, however, has had the coffins of the 

284 



EXHUMATION OF KING AND QUEEN 

will enable the reader to identify the coffin of Queen Marie 
Antoinette. 

Princes de Cond6 re-covered and ornamented with a silver plate. On the 
coffin that contains the remains of the Queen are engraved these words 
only : Marie- Antoinette de Lorraine- Autriche, 4pouse de Louis XVI, roi 
de France. A great mass of plaster had fallen on this coffin from the roof. 
The Comtesse de Hulst, the Comte de Reiset, and I took out our handker- 
chiefs and cleaned this poor coffin that seems to be pursued by fate even 
here in its resting-place. Close beside that of the Queen is that of Louis 
XVIII., in a fair state of preservation. It has therefore not been touched : 
one can distinguish its covering of violet velvet beneath the thick coat- 
ing of dust ; and the gold lace glittered in the light of our candles." 



285 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Abbaye Prison, 129, 236 ; imprison- 
ment of M. Rohan-Chabot, 20a7M^7i. 

Abbaye-Saint- Germain, battalion of, 
16 

Adelaide, Mme., 283 

Admiralty Court, 238 and n 2, 239 

Almanack, Boyal, for 1780, cited, 
238?i2j for i 793, 33 

Am bray, Henri d'. Chancellor of 
France, statement concerning burial 
of Marie Antoinette and Louis 
XVI., 269-84 

Amnesty, law of 1816, 258 

Andre, d', 2G') 

Angers, 77 

Angouleme, Due d', 221, 281, 282 

AngoulSnie, Duchesse d', 211-12, 
215 TC, 220-21, 245, 274, 282; 
gratitude to Turgy, 60 ; incidents 
of her imprisonment in the Temple, 
69, 70, 79, 80, 115 andn, 137-43 ; 
account of M. Antoinette's suffer- 
ings, 96 n ; characteristics, 175 ; 
reference of Rosalie Lamorli^re 
to, 180 ; evidence regarding Marie 
Antoinette, 196 ; reward to the 
Abbe Magnin, 203; letter of Marie 
Antoinette to, quoted, 260 ; receives 
her mother's will, 263 

Anjou, Margaret of, 142 ?i 

Anne of Austria, 282 

Archier, M., deputy, motions of, 
19-20 

Arcosse, M. Foss^ d', 264 Ji^ 

Arsenal, the attack on the, 202 

Artois, Comte d', his offices in the 
Temple, 23, 24, 26 : see a?«o Charles X, 

Artois, Province of, protest of the 
Communes, 92-93 

Assembly, the Legislative, Royal 
Family detained after the Varennes 



flight, 1-3, 9-12 ; sitting of August 
11th, vei"batim report, 14-20 ; over- 
ruled by the Paris Commune, 
21-22 ; Daujon's appeal to, 43 ; 
grant to Louis XVI., 88 « 

Astros, M. I'Abb^ d', 277, 278 

Atkins, Mrs., 196 

Aubier, M. de, 8 n 

Aughie, M., In 

Kwghik, Mme. Adelaide : see Augu- 
aii'e, Mme. 

Auguaire, Mme. , 7 and n 

Aulps, d' : see Blacas 

Aumale, Due d', 283 w 

Aussonne, Lafont d', historical accu- 
racy disputed, 150, 152 71 \ 156 ?i% 
190, 244 w; MSmoire au Eoi, 
quoted, 156 n ^ ; treatment of 
Rosalie Lamorliere's story, 175 ; 
attack on the Abbe Magnin's state- 
ment, 203-4 ; Lafaume Communion 
de la Reine, 223-24 ; attempt to 
subvert evidence in matter of the 
Queen's Communion, 224-26 

Austria, negotiations with, as to 
Marie Antoinette, 145-47 

Auteuil, 178 

Autun, seminary of, 203 

Bailly, M., 133, 235 

Barassin, 161 and n'^ 

Barbier, M. A. T., 33 

Barentin, M. de, 278 n 

Barillet, Becherches S'ur le Temple, 22 

Barnave, death of, 141 

Barrfere, M., 147, 282 

Basset trial, the, 196 

Batz, M., plot to save the King, 99 n, 

196 
Bault, Mme., 212, 221-22, 247 ?i; 

narrative of, 186-95 ; testifies to 



289 



u 



INDEX 



Abb6 Magnin's story, 204-5 ; 
letters to M. Magnin quoted, 222, 
227 ; Aussonne's attempt to bribe, 
224-26 
Bault, M., 158 ?i, 212-13, 218, 242, 
256 ; installed at the Conciergerie, 

187-95; letter from M. Lafont 

d'Anssonne to, 224-26 
Baye, Baron de, 272 
Bazin and Civeton, MM., Engraving 

of M. Menjaud's picture by, 215 n 
Bazire, account of the September 

massacres, 48 
Beauchesne, cited, 22, 33, 34 
Beaulieu, Madame, 152 and n^ 
Beaulieu, M., 152 
B^chet, M. , ministrations to prisoners 

of the Conciergerie, 198 
Becquey, M., 258, 262 
Bellang6, architect of the Temple, 23 
Bernard, Pierre (or Jacques Claude), 

Commissioner, 76 a?irf 71 ; 95 72, 114 
Berry, Due de, 205 n, 21571, 281-83 
Bertaud, 153 

Bertin, M. Georges, cited, 33 
Beugneou, 110 
Beugnot, M., 151 
Beuzon, M. Joseph, 265, 283 
Billaud-Varennes, Procureur-g6n6ral 

to the Commune, 62 ; quoted, 52 
Blacas, M. le Comte de, 273, 274, 276, 

278, 279, 280 
Blamont, Mme. de, recovers her 

liberty, 197 71 
Blanc, Louis, Histoiredela Revolution, 

127 71 
Blandin, M. , 220 
Bombelles, Mme. de, 78 
Bon, Jean, 147 
Borie, Commissioner, 56 
Boulogne, Monseigneur de, Bishop of 

Troyes, 282 
Bourbon, House of, burial-place of, 

281, 2^2-Mandnn 
Bourbon-Cond6, Princesse Louise 

Adelaide de, 61 
Bouyou, M., murder of, 6 n 
Boze, Mme. 160-61 and n ; informa- 
tion given to Mme. Simon- Vouet, 

177-78 
Br^ard, M., deputy, motions of, 16, 

18 
Br6z6, le Marquis de, 8 and n ; 277, 

278 
Brienne, Lomenie de, 255 n 
Briges, M. de, 8 n 



Brissot, followers of, death of 
decreed, 147, 148-49 

Brunier, Dr., Tison's accusations 
against, 96 n, 129 n ; sent for by 
Marie Antoinette, 115 and n, 116 

Brunot, Tison's accusations against, 
9671, 129 71. 

Brussels, negotiations with, as to 
Marie Antoinette, 145, 147 

Bruyan, Abbe Philibert, 198 ti 

Bune, de, 171 

Burger, Mr., letters to Lord Gran- 
ville, 58 n 

Burial of the victims of the Revolu- 
tion, 267, 268 

Busne, Louis Fran9ois de, 229 ; narra- 
tive of Marie Antoinette's execution 
by, 245-46 

Caesar's Tower, in the Temple, 25 

Calon, M., 14 

Cambon, 147 

Campan, Mme., 7 n 

Campardon, M., 196, 247 n, 262 n, 
cited, 50, 17071, 252 71 

Carlet, M., 26 

Carnation, affair of the, effects, 146, 
149, 157, 159 n, 164-66, 212, 241 

Carrousel, the, 54 n 

Caumont, Commissioner, 56 

Cemeteries of the Terror, 268 

Cemetery of the Precincts of the 
Temple, 26 

Chabot, deputy, 62, 146 

Challamel, A., Clubs Contre-r6volu- 
tionnaires, 196 n 

Chambord, M. le Comte de, 283 

Chambre des Comptes, Paris, 99 n 

Champion, M., 222 

Champs-Elys6es, 5 

Chantilly, 147 

Charles X., 215 ?i 

Charles, M. : see Magnin, Abb6 

Chatelet, the, Septembrist attack on, 
5471 

Chaumette, M . , Proeureur of the Tri- 
bune, reply to Cubi6res,677i ; Coun- 
cil meeting on day of King's death, 
95 ; visit to the Temple, 96 n, 108 ; 
regulations regarding the Midnight 
Mass on Christmas Eve, 110 ; plate 
used by the Queen in the possession 
of, 16271 

Chauveau-Lagarde, M., Counsel for 
the Queen, 253 n, 260 ; Notes of 
the Trial by, 228-34 



290 



INDEX 



Chimay, Mme. le Princesse de, 212, 

219-21 
Choiseul, Duchesse de, 259, 262-63 

Choiseul, M. de, 8n 
Choisy-le-Roi, Chateau de, 76 
Cholet, M., Abb6, visits to the 
Conciergerie, 214 and n, 219, 
222 

Choudieu, M., motions of, 14-16, 18- 
19 

Chousy, M. Mdnard de, 60 

Chretien, man-servant in the Temple, 
30, 80, 135 

Christmas Eve, 1792, suspension of 
the Midnight Mass, 110 

C16ry, M. , accompanies Royal Family 
to the Temple, 12 ; History of the 
Temple, 34-35 ; Journal cited, 41 
and n, 63 ; meeting with Turgy, 
59 ; his duties in the Temple, 69- 
70, 83, 88, 94, 105, 108, 135 and n, 
136, 138, 139, 187 ; note from Louis 
XVI. , 70 ; his room in the Temple, 
90 ; forbidden to attend on Marie 
Antoinette, 97 ; sorrow on death 
of the King, 98-99 ; gives Com- 
munion Tablecloth of Loviis XVI. 
to Lepitre, 116 

Clootz, 268 

Cointre, M. le, 260, 262 

Colbert, Inspection of Ancient Build- 
ings, report cited, 84 n 

CoUard, Royer, 21471 

College de France, 81 

Colombeau, registrar, 108 

Colson, Mme., 158 

Commandery of the Temple, 24-25, 
25 ^^ 

Committee of General Security, 257 ; 
measures to prevent escape of the 
Royal Family, 39 ; investigation of 
the Carnation conspiracy, 158-59 
and n 

Committee of Public Safety, measures 
to prevent escape of Royal Family, 
39, 42 n ; their perplexity in deal- 
ing with the Queen, 145, 146 ; 
secret meeting of September 2nd, 
minutes quoted, 146-49 

Committee of Surveillance of the 
Legislative Assembly, 14, 39 

Commune of Paris — Convention and, 
relations between, 104, 130 ; Dau- 
jon's appeal to, 43 ; General Coun- 
cil of, control over Council of the 
Temple, 37-38, 41, 113, 134; com- 



position, 89 ; sitting of August 
10th, 81 ; Goret's account of, 82 ; 
sitting of April 20th, 1793, 129 n ; 
sitting of September 30th, 1793, 
136 n ; Legislative Assembly and, 
relations between, 16 n, 21-22, 
23 n ; treatment of the Royal 
Family, 96 n ; reception in the 
Temple, 27 ; measures to prevent 
their escape, 39-40, 40 n ; visits to 
the Temple, 62 ; report of food 
consumed by the prisoners, 86-87 n ; 
provision for meals for the Royal 
Family, 88 ; arrangements for the 
King's death, 85 ; general feelings 
of, on the King's death, 114; 
question of the Queen's mourning, 
115 
Communes of Artois, the law-suit by, 

92-93 
Conciergerie, the — C ouncil Room, 
position of, 151, 152 n; Cour des 
Femmes, 158, 167 ; drawing of, 
189 ; Cour du Pr^au, 239 ; Marie 
Antoinette transferred from the 
Temple to, 144-45 ; details of her 
imprisonment (Mme. Simon Vouet), 
176-85; (Mme. Bault), 186-95; 
(Rosalie Lamorli^re), 150-71 ; the 
Queen's Communion, 196-206, 210, 
213, 215-27 ; Mass celebrated by 
the Abb6 Magnin, 200 ; plan of 
part of, 1793, 151 ; passage leading 
to the Queen's cell, illustration, 
155 ; religious ministrations for the 
condemned, 198-204 

Conde, Prince de, 72, 283 

Convention, the — Committees of, 69, 
130; Decree of, summoning the 
Queen before the Tribunal, 145 ; 
Louis XVI. taken before, 32, 108 ; 
their promise to him, 140-41 ; 
measures to prevent escape of 
Royal Family, 39 ; Paris to be 
allied with, by death of Marie 
Antoinette, 147 ; St. Denis, re- 
moval of coflSns from, decreed by, 
1793, 282 ; separation of the Royal 
prisoners, 112; votes of, sale of, 
146 

Corday, Charlotte, 265 

Cordeliers, the, 77 

Cornu, Mme., 162 ?j 

Cortey, M. de, plot to save the King, 
99 71 

Couci-le-Chateau, 85 



291 



u 2 



INDEX 



Council of the Temple, composition 
' and working of the, 37-38, 41, 43, 

83, 134 
Cour de la Corderie, Temple, 25 
Cour de la Saint-Chapelle, 153 
Cour de Chameau, Temple, 25 
Cour du Lion d'Or, Temple, 25 
Cournaud, Abb6, 81 
Court of the Chapter-house, Temple, 

26, 27 
Court of the Dungeon, Temple, 27 
Courtois, Edme Bonaventure, 256 ; 

retention of the Queen's glove, 

193 n ; conduct of, in matter of 

Marie Antoinette's will, 257-63 
Courtois, Mme. , 262 and n 
Crecy, Ch. de, 278, 279 
Cr^qui, Marquise de, 173 and n 
Crussol, M. le Bailly de, 274, 276, 

278, 279 
Cubi^res, Chevalier de, account of, 

67 n 
Ciirzon, Henri de, La Maison du 

Temple, quoted, 26, 84 n 
Custine, General, 153 

Damoreau, M. I'Abb^, 270 
Dangers, inspector of police, 187 
Danjou, Jean Pierre, unfrocked priest, 

confusion of facts regarding, 33-34, 

95 and n 
Danton, 261 ; death, 198 n 
Dash, Comtesse, M6moires des autres, 

177 « 
Dauban, 253 n ^ 
Daujon, Commissioner of the Tribune, 

narrative of, 33-58 ; character, 

35-36 
Daujou, Sieur Emmanuel, 272, 273, 

276, 278, 279 
Dauphin, the Grand, 282 
Dauphin, the : see Louis XVII. 
David, sketch of the Queen on her 

way to the scaffold, by, 251 
Deconzie, M., Bishop of Barras, 93 

and n 
Degon : see Courtois 
Delarc, Abbt^, 198 n 
Delesquelle, commissioner, 57 
Delille, Abbe, 81 
Dentzel, 202 n 
Desclozeaixx, Pierre Louis Olivier, his 

ownership of the burial-place of 
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, 
265-68, 271-79 passim ; rewards 
given to, 280 and n 



D6sessarts, narrative of Marie An- 
toinette's execution by, 249 

Desfosses, Vicomte Charles, narrative 
of Marie Antoinette's execution 
by, 250 and n 252 

Desjardins, Abbe, 204, 221 

Devienne, Mme., at Sainte-P61agie, 
132 

Distel, Dr., 274, 276, 278, 279 

Dobsent, 149 

Drake, Francis, secret service of, 51 n, 
146-47 ; MSS. of, quoted, 147-49 
and n 

Dreux, remains of Mme. de Lam- 
balle at, 52, 55 

Dropmore, 51 n, 58 n 

Ducatel, 231 n 

Dufengray, Sieur, quoted, 162 n 

Dufour, narrative of, 4-12 

Dufrene, gendarme, 156 it?, 157, 244 

Dumasbon, Francoise Germaine, 106 n 

Duplay, 256 

Duport, Adrien, 260 

Duport-du-Terre, death of, 141 

Duras, M. le Due de, 277-79 

Dutilleul, Mile., 187 



EcKARD, Histoire de Louis X VII, 60 

Edgeworth, Abbe : see Firmont 

Egremont, Mme. d', in Les Feuillants, 
7 and n, 12 

Elizabeth, Madame — Code of signs 
arranged with Turgy, 72-73 ; list in 
her handwriting, 64 ; Dauphin's 
deposition, her horror at, 35 ; death 
of, 255 ; imprisonment in the 
Temple, incidents (Daujon), 41; 
(Turgy), 63, 64, 69-74; (Goret), 
82-85, 90-91, 96 n, 97-101; 
(Lepitre), 106-31 passim ; (MoSlle), 
137-143 passim ; letters and notes 
to Turgy in the Temple, 59, 70, 
71, 76-80, 107 ?i; to Mile. S6rent, 
66 ; Marie Antoinette's enquiries 
for, 192 ; the Queen's letter to, 
222-23 ; see also Marie Antoinette, 
, will of ; personality, 124, 141-42 

Emery, Abbe, ministrations in the 
Conciergerie, 198-200 ; account of, 
, 199 n 

Emigres, laws against, 66 

Emilie de Laborde, 11671 

England, secret information as to 

French affairs, 146-47 
Errancis, Les, cemetery of, 268 



292 



INDEX 



Etidel, Paul, UHdtel Drouot et la 

curiosiU, 256 71 
Eve-Vaudremont, Sieur Richard, 

271-72 
Expiatory chapel, position of, 264-66 

Fabricius, Registrar, 243 

Fare, Mgnr. de la, 274-76, 278, 279 

Faubourg Antoine, storming of, 202 n 

Faubourg Saint-Honore, 5 

Faubourg Saint-Martin, 35 

Fauchet, M., deputy, motion of, 20 

Federation Festival, 77 

Ferrie, Sieur Pierre, 56 

Firmont, Abbe Edgeworth de, 
M^moires, 73 aiid n ; mentioned in 
letters of Mme. Elizabeth, 78 

Fleury, Mme., at Sainte-P61agie, 132 

FoUope, M. , warning to Turgy, 74-5, 
15 n 

Forgues, 147 

Fortescue, J. B., MSS. of, 51 n, 58 ?i, 
UQn, 149 71 

Fortescue, Mile., 2159i, 227; Abbe 
Magnin introduced into the Con- 
ciergerie by, 200, 218-19, 221 ; Re- 
collections of, 207-14 ; victims of 
the Revolution assisted by, 217-18 

Fouche, Rev. Father, letter of, 
quoted, 209 n 

Foundlings' Cemetery, Mme. de 
Lamballe's head buried in, 57 

Fouquier-Tinville, official acts as 
Member of the Revolutionary Tri- 
bunal, 145, 157, 183, 191, 193 and 
n, 194, 19691, 201, 232 ?i, 236, 241, 
256, 260, 262 

France, power of money in, 146 

Friedrichs, M. Otto, collection of, 30 

Froidure, 144 

Gachet, opens canteen in Temple, 30 
Gagni6, man-servant in Temple, 30 
Garde-Meuble of the Crown, 5-6 
Gaulot, Paul, Un Complot sous la 

Terreur, 102 n, 107 n, IIQ n 
Genet, M.,1 n 
G6rardin, illustration by, 155 
Gilbert, Gendarme, 156 n-, 157, 244 
Gilbert-des-Voisins, M., 241 
Girard, M., Cure of Saint-Landry, 

ministrations of, refused by Marie 

Antoinette, 167 7i, 204 «,, 223 
Giraud, M., surgeon, 196 7i 
Girondists, the Address against the, 

130 



Gobel, 146 

Goguelat, M. de, 8 n 

Golowkin, Comtesse de, 212 

Goncourt, E. and J. de, Hisfoire de 
Marie Antoinette, quoted, 264 Ji^ 

Goret, M., Town-Councillor, 32, 34; 
quoted concerning the deposition 
of the Dauphin, 35 ; description 
of Daujon, 35-36 ; narrative of, 
81-101 

Gosselin, Abb6, Vie de M. Emery, 
199 ?i 

Grammont, 252 and n 

Grangeneuve, connection with the 
Rohan-Chabot incident, 14-20 

Grenville, Lord, correspondence of 
Francis Drake with, 51 and n, 146 

Guadet, President, 2 

Guards of La Manche, 281 

Guffroy, M., 260, 262 

Guy, clerk (probably Guy Ricard), 
loyalty of, 116 w, 118 

Guyot, Mme., plan for Marie An- 
toinette's escape, 196 n 



Halles, Section des, 55 

Hanriot, Commander-in-Chief, 144 

Hardy, M., 268 

Harel, Mme., surveillance of Marie 
Antoinette in the Conciergerie, 156 
and n, 157-59, 241 

Haussmann, M., deputy, 17, 20 

Haymarket section, 56 

Hebert, 229, 236, 268 ; the deposition 
of the Dauphin, 35, 50-51 ; visit 
to Mme. Elizabeth, 79 ; denuncia- 
tion of Toulan and Lepitre, 125, 
127 ; his accusations against Marie 
Antoinette, 132, 133, 236; death 
of Marie Antoinette demanded by, 
147-49 

Heninlietard, commune of, 93 

Hennet, Ulpieu, song attributed to, 
122 n 

Henri IV., 282 

Henriette, wife of Charles L, 142 91 

Herault, 147 

Hermopolis, Monseigneur d', 215 ?i 

Heron, Citizen, 224 

Hervelin, Jacques-Charles, drummer, 
55 

Hervilee, P. d', 198 Jt^ 

Hohenlohe, Princess of, 59 

Hospice de I'Archeveche, 196 « 

Hospice de la Piti6, 76 



INDEX 



Hospital for Incurables, Mme. Simon- 

Vonet's visit to, 178 and n, 185 
Hoste de Beaulieu de Versigny, 1', 

99 )i 
Hotel de Bel- Air, Temple, 25 
Hotel de Boisboudran, Temple, 25 
Hotel de Bouffleurs, Temple, 25 
Hotel de Guise, Temple, 25 
H6tel de Louvois, 53 
Hotel de Rostaing, Temple, 25, 26 
Hotel de Toulouse, 53, 54 n 
Hotel Dieu, 101, 196 ; removal of the 

woman Tison to, 74 and n 
Hotel Poirier, Temple, 25 
Hotel Vernicourt, Temple, 27 
Hue, M., valet de cluomhre, arrest, 

41 and n ; his book, 63 ; loyalty, 

65, 70, 187, 196 
Humbert, Bros., 230 7i 

Insukrection of the 4th and 5th 
planned, 147 ; insurrection of 
Prairial, 202 

Isabey, restoration of the Marie 
Antoinette portrait, 8 n 

Isle-Adam, L', 147 

Jacobin Club, the, 69, 252 
Jacobins, attack on La Chaste 

Suzanne, 127 
Jacoiibet, plan of Paris, 1835, 266. 
Jacquotot, M., 103 and n 105 
James II., 14251 
Jarjayes, Chevalier de, loyalty of, 

102, WQandn, 118, 119 ?i, 196 
Jarjayes, Mme. de, 233 n 
Jeanne, Sister, 220 
Jolivet, Mme. le, facts related by, 

176-77 
Joly, grave-digger, 264 and n '^ 
Joly, Mme., at Sainte-Pelagie, 132 
Jourdeuil, 264 n 
Julie, Sister, 220 
Juvisy, 116 

Keravenan, Abbe, 198 n 

Knights Templars, the, 23, 25 n ; 

their idea in building the Temple 

prison, 84 n 
Kocharsky, 196 
Kotzebue, 267 



La Chakit:^-Sai]Sit-Roch, Sisters of, 
197 



La Ghaste Suzanne, scenes created by, 
127 and n, 128 

La Force, prison of, 53 and n, 54 n, 
56, 186, 212, 242 

La Vendue, rising of, 120, 121 n 

Laboullee, Citoyenne, 196 

Laboullee, M., The Little LaboulUe, 
196 3i 

Labrousse, Chevalier de, 142 

Labuziere, 168 

Lachassaigne, Mme., 132 

Lafayette, M. , 254 and n ; before the 
National Assembly, 18-19 ; Marie 
Antoinette's condemnation of, 141 

Lafiteau, Surgeon, 100 n 

Lagny, M. de, 223 

Lamaignere, Sieur Antoine, 271 

Lamarche, gendarme, 156 n ^, 200- 
202 and n 

Lamarliere, General, 72 

Lamarliere, Mme. de, 164 

Lamarque, 2 

Lamballe, Princesse de, 231 n ; 
accompanies Royal Family to Les 
Feuillants, 7, 9 n ; murder of, 34, 
43-49, 52-55, 186 ; finding of the 
remains, 55-58 ; relations with 
Philippe Egalite, 57-58 

Lamorliere, Rosalie, Narrative of, 
150-71 ; in the Hospital for In- 
curables, 175 ; personality, 179 ; 
Mme. Simon - Vouet's interview 
with, 179-85 

Lanjuinais, M., 127 and n 

Lariviere, Mme., attendance on Marie 
Antoinette, 154, 156, 240 

Lariviere, Louis, turnkey, 176 ; ac- 
count of, 238 and n ^-39 ; narrative 
of the Queen's execution by, 238-44 

Launoy, Mme., 109 n 

Lazare, Louis, 264 

Le Monde, letter of Father Fouch6 
quoted in, 209 n ; declaration of 
the Abb6 Magnin quoted, 215 ?i 

Lebeau, the Queen's gaoler at the 
Conciergerie, 158 and 71-60, 164, 
166-69, 181, 183 

L6chenard, the tailor, excesses at the 
Temple, 112 ; denounces Toulan in 
the Commune, 126, 128 

Legentil, Mme. Alexandre, 214 7i 

L6got, M., 260, 262 

Lepitre, Jacques Frangois, 96 « ; 
Recollections of, 102-33 ; character, 
102-3 ; accusations against. 111, 
125-26, 128-29, 129 «; relations 



294 



INDEX 



with Toulan, 1 14 ; plan for the 
Queen's escape, 116-21 ; not re- 
elected Conuiiissioner, 128 ; sent to 
Sainte-Pelagie, 131-33 ; witness in 
Queen's trial, 132-33 

Lequeux, sketch in the Temple, 139 n 

Les Feuillants, Convent of, Royal 
Family lodged in, narrative of 
Dufour, 1-12 

Lindsay, Englishman, 57 

Logographe, the, Tuileries, 5 

Longwy, blockade of, 40 

Louis VII., 283 

Louis XIII. , 282 

Louis XIV., 282 

LoiiisXVL, 144, 152, 218, 243, 259, 
263-65, 279; Convention, before 
the, 32, 108 ; Commune troubles in 
Artois, remark concerning, 92-93 ; 
Communion tablecloth preserved 
by Clery, 116 ; Daujon, gratitude 
to, 34-35 ; Dauphin, education of 
the, 82, 91 ; Death of, 147; (Turgy), 
69 ; (Goret), 95-96 ; (Santerre), 98 ; 
popular sympathy, 113-14 ; Ex- 
humation of his body, 269-76 ; re- 
burial, 277-82; Fear of the 
Septembriseurs, 42, 49-50; Im- 
prisonment — .arrival in the Temple, 
28-29 ; incidents (Daujon), 40-41 ; 
(Turgy), 66; (Goret), 82-94, 97; 
(Lepitre), 108-14; (Moelle), 136-40; 
Library in the Temple, 137 n ; 
Personality (Goret), 94 ; (Lepitre), 
108; (Moelle), 136-37; Plot for 
his escape, Clery's account, 98-99, 
99 re; Separation from the Queen, 
Lepitre's attempts for re-union, 
112-13 ; Wardrobe in the Temple, 
136 K 

Louis XVIL, 147, 157, 165; Arrival 
at the Temple, 27 ; Deposition, 
the, wrung from him by Hubert, 
35, 50-51; Education in the Temple, 
82, 91 ; Hebert's treatment of, 
51 ; Imprisonment in the Temple, 
incidents of (Turgy), 71, 76, 77 ; 
(Goret), 83, 87 «, 100; (Lepitre), 
108-31 passim; (Moelle), 136-43 
passim ; Personality (Daujon), 42 
andn; (Moelle), 142-43; Song 
composed for, on death of his father, 
121-22 

Louis XVIII. , 162 n, 215 n, 221, 267, 
283, 284 11 ; testimonial to Turgy, 
60 ; declares himself Regent, 71 ; 



foundation of Chapter of St. Denis 

by, 280 
Louis Joseph Xavier, Dauphin, 282 
Louis Philippe, 215 n 
Louise de Lorraine, 283 
Luxembourg Palace proposed as 

prison for the Royal Family, 21 

Madeleine, Cemetery of the, 1793, 
position, 264, 266-67; burial of 
Marie Antoinette, 264-84; burial 
of Louis XVL, 269-84 

Madeleine, old Church of the, 270 n 

Madelonnettes, prison of the, 157, 
158 71 ; the Richard family im- 
prisoned in, 157, 172 

Magnin, M. Charles Abbe, 156 n'\ 
207, 208 ; Conciergerie, ministra- 
tions in the, 194 and n, 200-203, 
210, 213 ; Declaration of, 215-27 ; 
facts in proof of his reliability, 
215 n ; Elevation of, 215 n ; Lafont 
d'Aussonne, attacks of, 203-4 ; Last 
years of, account, 205 9i-206 ; Resi- 
dence with Demoiselles Fouches, 
209 Ji 

Malesherbes, M. de, 255 ; visits to 
Louis XVI. in the Temple, 32, 
93-95, 112 

Mallemain, Mme. , 79-80 

Mancel, servant of, the Comte 
d' Artois, 28 

Mandet, M., 2 

Manuel, Procureur of the Commune, 
40 ; remorse of, 133 ; evidence in 
the Queen's trial, 229, 234 

Marat, death of, 77 

Marchand, man-servant, 80, 135 

Maribon-Montaut, M., deputy, 17-19 

Marie Antoinette, Queen — Abbe Mag- 
nin, ministrations of, 200-203 ; 
Burial in the cemetery of the 
Madeleine, 264-68 ; exhumation of 
the body, 272-76'; re-burial, 275-83, 
284 n; Characteristics, 161-62; 
(Moelle), 141-42 ; Communion in 
the Conciergiere, 156 71 ^^ 196-206, 
210, 213, 215-27 ; Conciergerie, her 
imprisonment in : transference from 
the Temple, 144-45 ; her last 
night in the, 247 and ?i-48 ; details of 
her imprisonment (Rosalie Lamor- 
lifere), 150-71 ; notes by Monseig- 
neur de Salamon, 172-74 ; account 
by Mme. Simon- Vouet, 176-85 ; 
accoimt by Mme. Bault, 186-95 ; 



295 



INDEX 



Confession refused in the Con- 
ciergerie, 169 ; Courage and dignity 
displayed at her trial, 229-33 ; 
Death of : decreed Sept. 2nd, 
147-49 ; the morning of the execu- 
tion, 168-71, 173 ; narrative of 
Lariviere, 238-44 ; narrative of 
de Busne, 245-46 ; narrative of 
gendarme Leger, 247-48 ; narrative 
of D6sessarts, 249 ; narrative of 
Vicomte Charles Desfosses, 250-52 
narrative of Rouy, 253-54 ; Identi 
fication of her remains, 220, 275 
King's death, her sorrow for, 69 
99-100, 114-15 ; question of mourn 
ing, 115 ; Les Feuillants, her im 
prisonment in, 4-12 ; Letter to 
Mme. Elizabeth, 222-23; to the 
Duchesse d'Angouleme, 260 ; gene- 
ral destruction of her letters, 59 ; 
Mile. Fouche, visits of, 207-14; 
Plots for her escape, 70-71, 116-21, 
196 (see also Carnation, affair of 
the) ; Relics of, 260-61 ; fate of her 
possessions, 171 ; Sketch of, on her 
way to the scaffold, 251 ; Temple, 
details of her imprisonment (Dau- 
jon), 35, 41-55 ; (Turgy), 63, 67-69, 
73-74 ; (Goret), 82-86, 90-91, 96 n, 
97-101 ; (Lepitre), 106-31 passim ; 
(Moelle), 137-43 passim ; her re- 
moval from the Temple, 131 ; Trial 
of, 168-69 ; recollections of Lepitre, 
132-33 ; description by Bault, 
194-95 ; notes by M. Chauveau-La- 
garde, 228-34 ; description by Comte 
Horace de Viel-Castel, 231 n ; re- 
collections of Moelle, 235-37; Ward- 
robe in the Temple, 137 7i ; Will of, 
204 n ; intercepted by Bault, 
255-56 ; handed to Fouquier-Tin- 
ville, 256 ; secreted by Robespierre, 
256 and n - ; stolen by Courtois, 
256-58 ; his attempts to sell it to 
the Royal Family, 258-63 ; quota- 
tion from, 259 ; received by the 
Duchesse d'Angouleme, 203 

Marie de Medicis, 282 

Marie Therese, 282 

Marino, 144 

Martainville, M. , 6 n 

Martin, Marie Antoine, 260 

Mass celebrated at the Conciergerie 
for Marie Antoinette, 213 

Massacres, the September, 34, 43-49, 
52-58 



Massieu, M., 260, 262 

Mathey, porter in the Temple, 139 n 

Mathieu, ex-Capuchin, 41 and ?i-42 

Maussion, M. de, 261 

Menjaud, painting of the Communion 

in the Conciergerie, 215 ?i 
Mercereau, stone-cutter, insults the 

Queen, 109 
Meunier, cook, 30 
Michel, 144 
Michelet, 268 
Michonis, inspector of police, 78, 144, 

151, 157, 158, 160, 196, 212, 241 ; 

death of, 133, 186-87 
Milhaut, 198 n 

Military Commission, the, 202 
Minier, municipal officer, 140 
Miranda,, the name mentioned in 

Mme. Elizabeth's notes, 77 
Mittau, 59, 212, 215 n, 220 
Moelle, Claude Antoine Francois, 32 ; 

narrative of, 63 n, 134-43 ; Tison's 

accusation against, 96 n, 129 n ; 

recollections of the trial, 235-37 
Molleville, M. Bertrand de, 223 
Montaigu, Abb6, 198, 201 
Montjoie, Histoire de la Reine, cited, 

141 n, 158 n, 245 
Montmorin, Mme. de, 255 n 
Montreuil Section, the, 56 
Morinerie, M. de la, Papiers du 

Temple, cited, 82, 84 n, 86, 108 n, 

129, 138 n, 144 n 
Morgue, the, 54 n 
Municipality, the Provisional, 68, 

102, 103, 134 

Nancy, Bishop of, 274, 276, 278, 
279 

Nantes, Fran(jais de. President, ex- 
amination of M. Rohan-Chabot, 
16-20 

Nantouillet, M. de, 8 n 

Napoleon I., 283 

Napoleon III., 283 

Narbonne, M., 16 

National Guard, dutj?^ at the Temple, 
39, 44, 83, 88 ; Marie Antoinette's 
repugnance for the uniform, 242 

Noailles, M. de. Prince de Poix, 14, 
16, 278 and n, 279 

Olivier, pictures of, in the Temple, 

23, 24 
Orleans, Catholicism in, 197 
Orleans, Due d', 265 



296 



INDEX 



Pache, Mayor of Paris, visit to the 

Temple, 96 n ; meeting of Com- 
mittee of Public Safety in house of, 

146-49 
Paffe, M., 124 
Palais Royal, the Septembrists at, 

47, 54 n 
Palloy, Patriot, Palloy's wall, 28- 

32 
Pantheon, Section of the, 81 
Pare Monceau, 268 
Paris — Arrests of citizens decreed, 

147 ; rising against the merchants 

of, 121 
Paris, Monseigneur the Archbishop 

of, 210, 215 n, 221 
Parisot, M., 69 
Partiot, Mme., 8 n 
Partiot, M., portrait of Marie An- 
toinette in possession of, 8 n 
Pascal, M. Maurice, 283 and n 
Passage du Perron, 54 n 
P61agie, Sainte, prison : see Sainte- 

P61agie 
Pelletan, Dr., 203 
Penthi^vre, Due de, 238 ; attempt to 

secure remains of Princesse de 

Lamballe, 52-55 
Petion, Mayor, 49, 62 ; suspended, 

92 
Petit, Mme., 132 
Philibert, Abb6, 198 n, 201 
Philippe Egalit6, attitude on death of 

Mme. de Lamballe, 57-58 
Picard, Le, 273 and n ^ 
Picavez, M., 269 
Pi6rart, Z., Eecherches historiques, 

122 n 
Piquet, Citizen, 30 
Place de la Revolution, 249, 254, 

267 
Place Louis XV, accident in June, 

1770, 265, 266 
Place Vendome, 4, 6 7Z ; the Hotel de 

la Chancellerie, 22 
Poiiitel, Citizen Jacques, 54 and 'n ; 

secures the head of the Princesse de 

Lamballe, 56-57 
Poix, Prince de : see Noailles, M. de 
Porte Saint-Denis, 54 n 
Pouquet, Sieur Antoine, 56 
Prieux, 196 
Prud'homme, gendarme, 67 n, 156 n^, 

200-2, 202 n 
Prussia, negotiations with, as to 

Marie Antoinette, 147 



QUAI DBS OflFiiVRES, 140 

Qu^len, Mme. de, 210-11 

Qu61en, M. de, 206 n, 215 n 

Quentin, Abb6, 206 n 

Queruelle, Jean-Gabriel, 55 

Quex, Le, sketch of the Temple, 28 

Qviinze-Vingts Section, extract from 

the original minutes, 55-58 
Quotidienne, La, for the year 1821, 

263 n 



Rabaut, Saint-Etienne, 141 

Rambluzin, 257, 258 

Rancourt, Mme., 132 

Ray, M., 196 n 

Real, Pierre Fran9ois, 130 and n 

Reiset, M. de, Madame Eloff, 91 n 

Renard, Sieur Sylvain, account of the 
burial and exhumation of Louis 
XVI. and Marie Antoinette, 269-79 
passim 

Renaud, Abbe, services at the Con- 
ciergerie, 198 tj. 

Renet, registrar, 56, 57 

Revolutionary Tribunal, 144, 145, 
202 ; their part in the Queen's 
death, 147, 149, 194 ; surveillance of 
the Queen in prison, 165, 167 ; takes 
possession of the Queen's belong- 
ings, 171 ; methods, 190-91 ; terror 
inspired by, 245 

Ricard, M., inspector of national 
property, 70 and n 

Richard, the child Fan-fan, 157 

Richard, Gaoler, 153, 157, 158 n, 
172-74, 176, 201, 207-8, 210, 212, 
218, 239, 242, 255; the affair of 
the Carnation, 157, 200 ; Rosalie 
Lamorliere's reference to, 181 ; his 
dismissal, 187 

Richard, Mme. , guardianship of Marie 
Antoinette in the Conciergerie, 
152-54, 157, 158, 160, 161 n'^, 162, 
163, 165, 166, 242 ; death of, 177 ; 
Rosalie Lamorliere's reference to, 
181 

Richelieu, Marechal de, 99 n 

RioufFe, 151 

Robert, chemist at the Temple, 115 ?i 

Robert, lad visiting the Temple, 116 

Robespierre, 36, 101, 193 »,-231 ?i, 256 
and n ", 262 n ^ 

Robiano, Comte Francois de, 207 ; 
pamphlet by, 203 ; method of com- 
piling his narrative, 206 



297 



INDEX 



Roche, Barth61emy de la, letters of, 

quoted, 198 n 
Rochefoucauld, M. La, 19 
Rocheterie, M. Maxime de la, Revue 

des Questions historiques, 206 ; 

Histoire de Marie Antoinette, 230 n, 

264 w 
Rohan - Chabot, M. , examination 

before the Assembly, 13-20 
Roland, Mme., sketch of Cubi^res, 

68 n 
Rothe, M., 60 

Rotunda of the Temple, the, 25, 27 
Rouen, College of, 103 
Rougeville, A. D. J. Gonzze de, Le 

Vrai Chevalier de Maison Rouge, 

cited, 146 ?i, 159 ?ii 
Rougeville, M. de, involved in the 

Carnation Conspiracy, 133, 151, 

157, 196 
Roux, Jacques, official report of the 

King's death, 95 ; methods of 

annoying the Royal Family, 114; 

present at death of Louis XVL, 

114 and n 
Roux, Louis, 129 
Rouy, narrative of Marie Antoinette's 

execution by, 253-54 
Royal Guard, soldiers of the, 1 
Royale, Mme. : see Augouleme, 

Duchesse d' 
Royalist songs, 121-22 
Royalists in Paris, efforts on behalf 

of the Queen, 145-46 
Rue d'Anjou, 266, 267, 281 
Rue d'Anjou Saint-Honor^, 270, 274, 

276 
Rue d' Avignon, 55 
Rue de Buffaut, 134 w 
Rue de Charonne, 56 
Rue de C16ry, 53, 54 n 
Rue de Coq-Saint-Jean, 33 
Rue de I'Arcade, 266, 270 n 
Rue de la Barillerie, 152 k^ 
Rue de la Corderie, 23, 54 n, 109 n 
Rue de la P6pini6re, 266 
Rue de la Rotunde, 25 
Rue de la Savonnerie, 55 
Rue de la Vieille-Draperie, 152 n'^ 
Rue de la Ville I'Evgque, 264, 270 n ; 

Convent in, 266 
Rue de Saint-Louis, 103 
Rue de S6vres, 178 
Rue des Ballets, 53, 54 n 
Rue des Franc-Bourgeois, 54 n 
Rue des Mathurins, 266 



Rue des Petits-Champs, 54 n, 56 

Rue du Chaume, 54 n 

Rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine, 

55-56 
Rue du Temple, 23 
Rue Haute, Temple, 25 
Rue La Coutellerie, 54 n 
Rue La Ferronnerie, 54 n 
Rue La Tixanderie, 54 n 
Rue Le Roi de Sicile, 54 n 
Rue Malher, 53 
Rue Popincourt, 56 
Rue Saint-Antoine, 53, 54 n 
Rue Saint-Honore, 54 n, 249-51 
Rue Saint-Jacques, 102 
Rue Saint-Nicholas, 56 
Rue Saint-Romain, 179 



Saint Andrj^, 147 

Saint-Cyr, 78 

Saint-Denis, Royal church of, burial 

of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 

in, 277-84 ; desecration of the 

Bourbon vault, 282 ; Royal Ciiapter 

of, founded, 280 
Saint-Eustache, Church of, 110, 

205 m 
Saint-Gall, 78 

Sainte-Genevifeve, section of, 81 
Sainte-Germain-en-Laye library, 33 
Saint-Germain-1' Auxerrois, Church of, 

203, 215 ; closed during last years 

of Abbe Magnin, 205 ?i-206 
Saint-Hugues, L. de, 196 ti 
Saint- Jacques-la-Boucherie, battalion 

of, 55 
Saint-L(^ger, M. de, 163 
Saint-M , vicar of, visits the 

Queen in the Conciergerie, 214 n 
Saint-Nicholas-des-Champs, 215 n 
Sainte-Pelagie, prison of, 157, 222 ; 

Lepitre sent to, 131-33 
Saint-Roch, 203; Sisters of, 211, 

220 
Saint-Sulpice, Seminary of, 198 
Salamon, Monseigneur de, Notes by, 

172-74 
Sambucy, Abb^de, 198 n, 201 
Sanscidottes, use of the term, 125 
Sanson, Henri, executioner, 243 and 

n, 250 
Santerre, Commandant-General, 49, 

62 ; visits to the Temple, 96, 108 ; 

account of the death of Louis XVI. , 

98 



298 



INDEX 



Sardoii, M. Victorien, collection, 33, 

36, 189 
Saulieu, Mme., 164 
Saumur, 77 

Savard, Commissioner, 56, 57 
Savornin, Abbe, 273 n 
S6gur, Comte Anafcole de, Un Episode 

de la Terreior, cited, 198 n, 200 ii, 

201 n 
S^nozau, Mme. de, 255 
S6rent, Mme., correspondence with 

the Temple, 65, 66, 73, 77, 78, 129 n 
Stee, M. de, defence of the King, 33 
Simon, care of the Dauphin, 30, 51 ; 

tribute by Goret, 100-101 
Simon, Citoyenne, 32 and n, 100 n 
Simon-Vouet, Mme., 230 vi; inquiry 

of, 175-85 
Solminiac, M., 6n 
Songs, Royalist, 121-22 
Stable Court, Temple, 26 
Suin, Mme., 132 
Sidleau, M. Francjois, 6 and n 
Swiss Guards, 2 and n 



Tarente, Princesse de, 212, 220 
Tasse, M. la, sent for by the Queen, 

115 and n, 116 
Temple, the— Bailliage, the, 25, 26, 28; 
Church of the, 26 ; Communication 
with the outside world, methods 
established by the prisoners, 109 
and n ; Council of the, methods 
of working, 62-63, 104, 105 ; Coun- 
cil Room of the, 73, 105, 111, 135 ; 
removed to the ground floor, 134 
n ; Court of the Indemnity, 24 ; 
Court of the Little Fortress, 24; 
Grand Priory, meals prepared in, 
135 ; Hanriot places in a state of 
siege, 144 ; Identification of the 
King's attendants, 62 ; Lamballe, 
Princesse de, her remains brought 
to the, 34, 43-49, 53 n; Little 
Tower, the Royal Family in the, 
82 ; Manor of the, plans, 27 ; 
Meals for the Royal Family, 
Turgot's account, 62-66 ; Moelle's, 
63 n, 135-36, 139; Goret's, 86-88 
andnn ; Lepitre's, 111-12 ; Palloy's 
wall, 28-32; Passage of the In- 
demnity, 24 ; Plans of the, 29, 31 ; 
Porte du Bailliage, 61 ; Precincts, 
22 ; plan of, 25 ; cemetery of the, 
26 ; Removal of the Queen from. 



131, 144-45 ; Royal Family's im- 
prisonment, 21-32 ; Dufour's nar- 
rative, 11-12 ; Daujon's narrative, 
37-58 ; Turgy's narrative, 61-69 ; 
Goret's narrative, 81-101 ; Le- 
pitre's narrative, 104-33 ; Moelle's 
narrative, 136-43 ; Stable Court, 

26 ; Topography during the Revo- 
lutionary period, 22-32 ; Tower of 
the, Henri de Ctirzon's description, 
84 n ; in the Visitations of Paris, 
84 n ; Lepitre's description, 104 

Terror, the, 207 ; Religion during, 
197 

Theatre de la Cite, 103, 152 and n^ 

Theatre du Lyc6e, Addle de Sacy 
played at, 127 n 

Theatre Fran9ais, 132 

Thuriot, M., 15 

Tison, Mme, denunciation of Commis- 
sioners, 72, 128-29, 129 ?i; mental 
derangement of, 73-74, 74 n, 130 

Tison, Pierre Joseph, accusations 
brought by, 72, 74, 75, 96 ?i, 111; 
account of, 74 n ; subsequent 
loyalty, 76 ; duties in the Temple, 
97, 98, 117, 135; personality, 
105-6 ; spying of, 135 and n, 140 

Toulan, Francois Andrien, conversion 
of, 66-67 ; 'loyalty of, 69, 76-78, 
109, 110, 112, 113, 114; his plan 
for escape of the Royal Family, 
70-71, 116-21 ; prevented from 
serving in the Temple, 72, 128 ; 
plan of signals, 77 ; arrest of, 80 
and n ; accusation against, 96 7i, 
126, 129 n ; account of, lOQ n ; con- 
demned to death, 125 ; escape of, 
133 

Toulon, re- capture of, 146 

Tour-du-Pin, M. de la, 235 and n 

Tournan, 59 

Tournan-en-Brie, 59, 80 

Tourzel, Mme. de, in Les Feuillants, 
6-7, 9 n; M6moires quoted, 6 m^, 

27 ; in the Temple, Q\ n 
Treilhard, M., 112 

Troche, M., cited, 204 n, 215 n 

Tronchet, M., defence of the King, 
112, 113 

Tron9on-Ducoudray, M., 228 n, 230, 
231, 233, 253 « 2, 260 

Trouv6, Mile., 220 

Tuileries, Palace of the, 254 ; meet- 
ing of the Legislative Assembly in 
the Riding School, 1-3 ; mob attack 



299 



INDEX 



on August 10th, 4-6 ; attempt of 
the mob to enter, with the body of 
Mme. de Lamballe, 53-54, 54 n ; 
gardens of the, 249 
Turgy, Louis rran(?ois, 30, 135 ; 
narrative of, '59-80 ; rewarded by 
the Duchesse d'Angouleme, 60, 
109 n; list of, concerted signs 
between Mme. Elizabeth and, 64, 
72-73 ; notes to, from Mme. Eliza- 
beth, 75-80, 107 n 

Valayer, M., 215 m 

Varinot, M., of Versailles, 178 

Vaudeville Theatre, La Chaste 

Suzanne played at, 127-28 
Vaugirard, 187 
Verdun, fall of, 40 
Vergy, Gabrielle de, 85 
Verniaud, M., 6 ?i '^ 
Verniquet, 266 
Versailles, College of, 103 
Versailles, Palace of, the CEil de BcEuf, 

71 and n ; population during the 

Restoration, 177 n 
Vertot, M. , 150 n 
Vicq, Sieur, 56 



Victoire, Mme., 283 

Viel-Castel, Comte Horace de, quoted, 

231 H 
Vienna, negotiations with, as to 

Marie Antoinette, 145, 147 
Vigier, M. du, 6 n 
Vildavrai, M. Thi^ri de, visit to 

Louis XVL, 10-12 
Vincent, the doctor, accusations 

against, 69 n, 129 n 
Vis6, Mercure, 137 
Visitation of Paris, 1495, descrip- 
tion of the Temple, 84 n 
Voisin, Abb6 de, 199 
Vyri^, M. de, L'Histoire de Marie 

Antoinette, cited, 9 n, 87 n, 115 n, 

214 n 



Wallon, M. a., cited, 250 n 
War Office, Archives of, cited, 245 
Weber, Memoirs, quoted, 2 n, 52-53 
Welvert, Eugene, Le Saisie des 

Papiers duConventionnel, tfcc, cited, 

257 n, 261 n, 262 n 
Werthmuller, Marie Antoinette's 

portrait by, 7 n 



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